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The little cavalcade swung into the trail that led to the 
canyon road. {Page 17.) Frontispiece, 


THE BOY SCOUT 
TRAIL BLAZERS 

OR 

SCOUTING FOR UNCLE SAM ON 
THE PIKE NATIONAL FOREST 

:BY 

Ff CHELEY 

') 

Author of “Buffalo Roost,” “Told by the Campfire,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
CHARLES L. WRENN 


PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF 
THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 


NEW YORK 

BARSE & HOPKINS 

PUBLISHERS 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


FublisHed -witK tHe Approval of tKe 
Boy Scouts of America 

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 

75 cents, postpaid. 

THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS— Chump 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 
— McLane 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS— Chelet 
THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS— Ler- 

EIGO 

(O^er volumes in preparation) 

BARSE & HOPKINS 

Publishers New York 


Copyright, 1917, by 
Barse & Hopkins 

The Boy Scout Trail Blazers 

JUN -2 1917 


VAIL-BALLOO COMPANY 
BMQHAMTON AND NEW YORK 


AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
TO EVERY 

BOY SCOUT OF AMERICA 
WHO HAS WON HIS 
HONOR BADGE 


FOR 

FORESTRY 




/ 




TABLE OE CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

I The Death of ^‘Father Time” .... 9 

II The Price op Carelessness 30 

III Trailing a Desperado . 50 

IV Wiped Out at Night 70 

V A Midnight Capture 91 

VI Old High Tells His Story 115 

VII The Trail Blazers 148 

VIII Scout Duty at Pine Cone Camp .... 174 

IX A Sea op Flame 202 

X In the Hands of the Law . . . . . 228 





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ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The little cavalcade swung into the trail that led to 
the canyon road Frontispiece 

Each one had his hands securely lashed to his side 
and sat astride a cow pony 27 

Harry heard Bob begging and coaxing the horses, 
and went to help him 85 

Whirlwinds of scarlet flame circled skyward as if 
hurled from the mouth of a massive cannon . . 206 


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THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL 
BLAZERS 

CHAPTER I 

THE DEATH OF “FATHER TIME’’ 

^ ‘ TT NEVER knew a fellow conld have so much 
I fun fishing,” said Harry Carter to his 
A Uncle Bob as they trudged along the nar- 
row trail toward the old forester’s cabin. 

“Nor I either,” chimed in the twin Scout. 
“It’s trout for me every time after this. I’d 
rather have this little string of ‘rainbows’ than a 
whole wagonload of blue gills and perch. Fight? 
Oh, Jimminy, but they have spunk! The rest of 
the Troop will just laugh at us when we get to 
telling about this fishing trip.” 

“And like as not they will call every story we 
tell a ‘whopper.’ I wish we could have the whole 
bunch here for an outing. Wouldn’t it be great 
sport to show them around!” 

“And teach them to fish with a fly instead of 
just dangling a worm in the water. I’m going to 
9 


10 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


practice that fly casting stunt all winter, so when 
we come west again I can do as well as you do, 
Uncle,” said Harry earnestly. 

‘ Hurrah ! there is the cabin just ahead, ’ ^ called 
Harry, joyfully, ‘‘and, believe me, I am the hun- 
gry kid. Ifll do justice to AunUs hot popovers 
and wild honey to-night, and sleep — oh, my ! ” 

“We really ought to hear from Mother to-day, 
Harry,” said Harvey thoughtfully. “My, but I 
do hate to think of going home next week. Why, 
ten days of this sort of life is just a teaser. I’d 
like to stay a whole year.” 

“So would I,” affirmed Harry. “Say, Uncle 
Boh, wouldn’t an eleven like the Supervisor or like 
Toney Carson make some of these college aggre- 
gations look pale around the gills? Talk about 
training — ^here ’s the place ! ’ ’ 

“You’re right, lad,” said Mr. Standish in a 
pleased voice. “There is no place in the world 
where a fellow can grow so strong or train to en- 
dure so much as by living a clean, simple life out 
in the forest. These rangers are as hard as nails 
and scarcely, if ever, sick.” 

Aunt Belle was awaiting the little party and was 
very kind in her words of praise concerning the 
splendid catch of trout. 

“I know you boys are just starved, and I have 
supper all ready. We’ll fry those fish for break- 
fast. They will taste better to you then.” 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHER TIME’’ 11 


“Was there any mail!” asked Harry, almost 
eagerly. 

“Not to-day,” replied their aunt, “but there 
will be to-morrow, no doubt. You know it takes 
a long while for mail to get back here into the 
heart of the Rockies. ’ ’ 

They were just at supper when — Br-r-r-r, Br-r-r 
— Br-r, went the telephone. Bob Standish rose 
from his chair and hastened to the receiver. 

The call proved to be from Mr. Hastings, the 
District Supervisor of the forest. 

“Go to Beaver Canyon to-morrow! Yes, I can 
go if you think best,” said the forester. Then, 
after receiving careful orders of just what he was 
to do there, he hung up the receiver and returned 
to the table. 

“I’m a bit disappointed. Scouts,” he said to his 
two nephews. “However, orders are orders to a 
United States Forester and duty always comes be- 
fore pleasure. We’ll have plenty of time to tramp 
around and hunt when I get back. The Service 
has been having a great deal of trouble on the Re- 
serve for some months with a gang of tie cutters. 
I hope you won’t be too badly disappointed, but 
the Supervisor tells me that Old Luke, who is the 
leader of this notorious gang, is back on the range 
with his boys again. They have been cutting ties 
up Beaver Canyon, chopping anything and every- 
thing that takes their fancy, and I must go and 


12 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


make an investigation. You see, first of all it’s 
against tlie law to cut any timber on a National 
Forest Reserve until it has been inspected and 
properly marked by one of the rangers ; and then, 
too, it is especially dangerous to let these tie cut- 
ters go, because they not only waste choice trees 
to get out ordinary ties but they leave all the tops 
and limbs and chips just where the trees fall, and 
you realize, of course, that it is such carelessness 
that causes more than half of all the horrible fires 
that devastate our National Forests each year. 
Then, too — ” 

‘‘But who is this Old Luke, Uncle?” inter- 
rupted Harry, who had become very interested in 
the story of the old tie cutter. 

“Yes, do tell us about him. Uncle,” added Har- 
vey. “Is he a desperado?” 

“You’d call him so in the city, boys, but out in 
these mountains we don’t think of him just ex- 
actly that way. You see, the poor old duffer has 
had a hard time of it for a good many years. You 
boys, of course, do not know a great deal about 
the old sheep and cattle war. Some evening be- 
fore you go back home I’ll tell you all about it, 
but for now it was just this : the sheep raisers and 
the cattle growers all over these mountains grew 
to be bitter enemies, and there have been many 
pitched battles and much needless loss of life and 
much of bitter hatred. Now, Old Luke was first 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHEE TIME’» 13 


a cattle man and later a sheep man, and in the last 
big fight which took place up in the Big Basin, 
the cattle men cleaned Luke out — ^burned his cor- 
rals, butchered his sheep, and by accident shot his 
wife. Luke was left with two sturdy mountain 
lads, destitute. He took an oath, with his two 
boys, to avenge the death of their mother ; conse- 
quently they have been the terror of certain sec- 
tions for a half-dozen years. While the three of 
them are probably responsible for a half-dozen 
murdered cattle men in these parts, yet there has 
been no evidence. 

‘‘The Sheritf of Brown County finally offered a 
reward for Old Luke, dead or alive, and Luke dis- 
appeared. We heard nothing of him till two 
years ago, when Sheriff Brown’s house and barns 
were mysteriously burned. Not many days later 
Old Luke was reported to have been seen up in a 
mining camp near Crystal Peak, but nothing came 
of it. Several times since, however, Luke and his 
two boys, now young men, have given the Forest 
Service a good deal of trouble by going into a 
choice woods and cutting, without any thought of 
the timber, hundreds of ties and drawing them out 
and selling them to the railroad. It is their way 
of making a living. Then to add to this Luke and 
the boys periodically get crazy drunk on ‘rot-gut 
whisky.’ It is at such times they cause all the 
rangers on the Eeserve a good deal of uneasiness 


14 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


on account of the probability of fire starting in 
their crude camp. The Forestry Service have at 
last decided to rid themselves of this nuisance. 
The Supervisor is sending me after them. I must 
start very early in the morning. 

‘‘The Supervisor has had word that their tie 
camp is in a very dangerous condition with piles 
of dry slash and chips, and also that they have 
been stealing and butchering range cattle. He 
wants me to investigate the slash and to burn it 
if it looks too dangerous, and to bring Luke in 
with me if I can get him. It isn’t a job I fancy 
very much, for Luke is a desperate character, but 
I am not afraid. I have talked with him many 
times about his troubles and he is just a poor, 
ignorant animal that lives by his wits. However, 
he is getting to be a real menace again and we 
must put a stop to it. His eldest son was a noted 
desperado in these hills a few years ago, but sud- 
denly disappeared after a feud in a little mining 
town. 

“A week ago the postmaster at Florence was 
robbed and shot, and as he was an old cow-man 
many people at once supposed the deed must have 
been done by a sheep-man. They suspect one of 
Luke’s boys, but I think the whole story is a sup- 
position. I don’t believe either one of the boys 
knows enough to attempt any such an affair. At 


THE DEATH OF “FATHER TIME’» 15 


any rate the Supervisor thinks it will be best to 
keep our eyes open and for us to arrest Luke as a 
suspect if we can find him. I hate to go just at 
this time, but as I said, boys, orders are orders, 
and it will be but a two days’ job.” 

Both boys were disappointed and showed it 
plainly in spite of themselves. 

“But, Uncle Bob,” said Harry, coming to at- 
tention, his hand automatically coming to salute, 
“let us go with you, won’t you? You know we 
are both First Class Scouts, and we could perhaps 
help you. Didn’t you say that you might have to 
burn some of those slash piles on this trip ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, do let us go!” chimed in Harvey. “I’m 
sure we could ride the extra horses, and we boys 
could make camp and cook for you. We have our 
camp kits and pocket axes with us, you know, and 
our blankets, and — ” 

“And I have my kodak. Uncle. I could photo- 
graph everything for you to illustrate your report 
with. I could develop the films right in camp 
with no trouble. Oh, do let us go ! It would be 
such fun to illustrate a regular Government report 
for Uncle Sam.” 

Mr. Standish looked down at the two stalwart 
lads and smiled. 

“So you are First Class Scouts, are you, boys? 
Does that really mean that you are no longer Ten- 
derfeet?” Both boys nodded emphatically. 


16 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


Even after an hour’s talking and after every 
possible danger that might befall the lads had been 
carefully considered, the old ranger decided to 
think it over a bit longer, but with the result that 
it was finally agreed they should go. In two 
hours all three were busy making packs and get- 
ting their food bags together, for they must get 
away by breakfast if they were to make the trip 
in two days. 

Mr. Standish was talking. ‘‘We will have to 
take ‘Father Time’ with us, boys, to carry our 
pack, for it will be hard traveling for the horses 
at best.” 

Both boys laughed heartily. “ ‘ Father 
Time’?” they cried together. “Why, Uncle, 
surely that donkey is too old to go on such a hard 
trip and carry this pack. It will weigh at least 
two hundred pounds. ’ ’ 

“Don’t worry, my lads, about that,” chuckled 
the ranger. “ ‘Father Time’ has been carrying 
my pack for ten years and knows these hills like 
a book. We couldn’t go without him. He and I 
are the best sort of friends, and more than once 
his ‘horse sense’ has saved me from making a very 
bad mistake. He is a very keen observer, too. 
I doubt if you could take him to any part of these 
mountains fifty miles away in any direction and 
lose him. He would invariably pick the shortest 
and best trail home. He’s almost like having a 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHEE TIME^^ 17 


camp mate. He stands lazily with his head in the 
smoke of my camp fire just as if he enjoys it, and 
he always eats all my left-overs. He is especially 
fond of pancakes and porridge.’’ 

Harvey laughed and laughed. ‘^A donkey that 
is fond of pancakes and porridge! Say, Uncle, 
does he insist on having maple sirup on them, 
too?” 

The first gray lights were just coming over 
Black Mountain when the little cavalcade swung 
into the trail that led to the canyon road — the boys 
eager, “Father Time” surprised, and Mr. Stan- 
dish lost in thought about the mission he was 
starting on. He was worried over the fact that 
there might be a bit of gun play and — Yet they 
were Scouts, and if that organization had meant 
anything to them at all it had no doubt taught 
them to be self-reliant, resourceful, and to keep 
their head in an emergency. Ten to one, Luke 
was otf in some mining camp anyway and that all 
they would really see of him would be his miser- 
able wanton destruction of majestic pine and 
spruce and fir. He could see even then, in his 
mind’s eye, the great heaps of topplings, the piles 
of fresh resinous chips, and the mounds of nee- 
dles, dry as tinder and as infiammable as gun cot- 
ton. It was with no uncertain satisfaction that 
he realized that Luke and his gang of the cutters 
were at last about to be placed where they could 


18 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


do no more harm to the great swaying, breathing 
forest that Bob Standish had come to love as his 
very own. 

Noon found them in the high hills by a stream 
of crystal water — melted snow, every drop of it, 
from the mighty glaciers on the sides of the Con- 
tinental Divide. As Harvey built the fire, Harry 
began to open the various grub bags, selecting 
what they would need for their meal. Both 
scouts were so engrossed in proving to their uncle 
that they could prepare an appetizing meal that 
they paid little or no attention to their immediate 
surroundings. Ordinarily their keen eyes would 
have detected any unusual movements about them, 
but now they were so completely engrossed that 
they failed to even catch a glimpse of the tall, 
shambling tie cutter, who had twice circled their 
camp at a safe distance in order to be certain that 
he personally was not being hunted, for every tie 
cutter in the range was suspicious even of camp- 
ers, and while the Forest Eangers were careful to 
not start trouble with them, they were never on 
friendly terms. 

Uncle Bob led the horses down to the stream, 
then slipped the pack from ‘‘Father Time’s’’ 
tired back, for the grades had been steep and they 
had pushed ahead hard all the morning. Soon 
the coffee pot was boiling merrily on a homemade 
tramel that Harry had deftly cut with his pocket 


THE DEATH OF FATHER TIME’^ 19 


ax. The flat stone that he had chosen to fry the 
venison on was already set and was heating, while 
the potatoes were put to boil in a convenient cor- 
ner of the fire. 

Harry, rising up suddenly from the fire to re- 
move the cotfee pot with a slender pot hook, 
bumped into a huge something that nearly 
knocked him off his feet and, to be perfectly hon- 
est, frightened him. Never before had so huge a 
head been thrust unceremoniously under his arm 
while he was getting dinner. He drew back with 
a gulp, only to behold the genial face of ‘ ‘ Father 
Time.’’ He laughed uproariously, and ‘>Time,” 
as if thoroughly understanding the whole situa- 
tion, lay back one long ear and brayed. 

“Oh, you Rocky Mountain canary!” laughed 
Harvey, as he brought a new armload of pine 
sticks for the fire. 

“Three o’clock ought to see us in Beaver Can- 
yon,” said Mr. Standish, as the pack was again 
adjusted. “I want you boys to keep your eyes 
peeled for any signs of human life. These tie 
cutters have been persecuted so relentlessly all 
their lives that they are very hard to catch. We 
will be lucky if we even see them. We certainly 
won’t see them if they see us first. Yet you can’t 
tell when they are liable to take a pot-shot from 
same crag or tall tree. Last spring they shot 
Jake Town’s old mare right out from under him. 


20 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


He hunted for them three days but could not find 
them.^’ 

Late that afternoon they began to come to the 
first piles of toppings and chips. The possibility 
of being shot at from ambush kept all three as 
alert as squirrels. Even '' Father Time” would 
prick up his long ears and look wise, suggesting 
that he had seen many strange things already that 
had escaped the eyes of the others. 

The brush piles increased and here and there 
still lay a giant of the forest that had not as yet 
been sawed into lengths or dressed ready for tie 
timber. Finally the trail swung sharply to the 
left and revealed a tumbled-down, crude, make- 
shift shanty in the center of a devastated area. 
Everywhere lay the remnants of hundreds of 
great Engelmann Spruce. 

The Ranger halted and carefully surveyed the 
scene before them. His heart was stirred with in- 
dignation. Suddenly he noted the thin column of 
smoke rising from the chimney. They must be 
at home. He ordered the boys to halt with the 
pack mule while he rode forward to investigate. 
When fifty feet from the shanty he called out a 
friendly ^‘Halloo!” and waited. He got no re- 
sponse. He tried again with the same result. 
He glanced about him carefully for any signs of 
life. But for the tell-tale smoke, you might have 
thought the place had been deserted for months. 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHEE TIME’’ 21 


He rode to the door and knocked, but got no an- 
swer. He opened the door and peered in. There 
was no one at home, at least that he could see. 

‘‘Well, Scouts, they saw us first and are gone — 
for just how long, I don’t know, but for the pres- 
ent we have this valley of destruction to ourselves. 
Let’s pick a camp spot and set up our camp, for I 
see very plainly that unless they try to prevent 
us with their guns from some hidden shelter, we 
must burn a lot of this slash before we return. 
Harry, I’m so glad you brought that kodak. This 
evidence is conclusive. While the light is yet 
good I’ll maneuver with you, in case some one 
might show up, and we’ll get these pictures. Be 
careful with them and let’s make every one 
count.” 

“Oh, I will,” replied Harry with no little pride. 
“You know. Uncle, I have won my merit badge 
for photography. ’ ’ 

The camp site was chosen at the edge of the 
clearing in an open spot away from the piles of 
slash. All hands set to, to make camp. First 
came the tent poles of aspen and the tent pins 
from forked sticks, and then the piles of sweet- 
scented pine boughs for the bed in the corner. 

Harry and Uncle Bob took views all over the 
clearing and then came back to camp. After a lit- 
tle rest and more precautions against surprise, 
the Forester left the two boys while he strode olf 


22 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


among the slash to chart and estimate the timber 
cut. Over to one side of the clearing, and cleverly 
concealed under a generous pile of brush, he found 
nearly two hundred freshly hewn ties. His indig- 
nation knew no bounds, and finally he strode over 
to the shanty again to make a better search. He 
found that the fire had been hastily extinguished 
by pouring water in the stove, and furthermore 
he found that the ash pan had been freshly emp- 
tied. He was an old woodsman of experience, 
and his curiosity was aroused as to where those 
ashes had been emptied. He started on a search, 
and in a few moments, to his utter astonishment, 
he found where the hot ashes had been thrown 
into a slash pile to conceal them. The only thing 
in the world that had saved a fire was the fact that 
it had rained heavily in the night, wetting the 
brush thoroughly, and that there had not been the 
slightest breath of wind since. As he strode back 
towards the camp he was thinking of the labor and 
money it would take to re-forest so big an area. 

Harry greeted him with shouts of enthusiasm. 

‘‘Oh, Uncle Bob, the pictures are simply great. 
Every one is a gem for detail and clearness. I 
never made a sharper set of negatives.” He 
brought them and held them to the light for in- 
spection. Mr. Standish was pleased and compli- 
mented the lad on his work. 

The evening meal was much enjoyed, for it had 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHEE TIME’’ 23 


been a strenuous day, and Uncle Bob was agree- 
ably surprised at the art the boys had developed 
in camp-fire cooking. He could not have pre- 
pared a better supper himself, and if there was 
one thing he did pride himself upon it was upon 
his own ability to cook over an open fire. 

‘‘There is one thing above all others that the 
real forester must learn,” he said, “and that is 
observation. After years of experience I can tell 
almost at a glance how many trees of a certain 
size there are to an acre in any given tract and 
how many feet of lumber in a tree. I can pick 
out a diseased or a beetle tree as far as I can see 
it. I can tell how old a tree is at a glance. I 
can make a map of any trail traveled during the 
day, and I can name every bird and tree and 
flower in the mountains.” 

“Why, Uncle Bob, you would make a good Boy 
Scout,” cried Harvey enthusiastically. “Those 
are the things we are learning about all the time.” 

“I presume I would, boys,” he laughed back. 
“If I understand this Scouting business at all, 
anyway, it is just a means to help you boys who 
are raised in the cities to live a normal, natural, 
useful life in an unnatural place. It’s to help you 
retain the manly quality of the early pioneer and 
backwoodsman without giving up the bigger ad- 
vantages of city life. ’ ’ 

The evening passed quietly, and by eight-thirty 


24 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


the fire was banked and the little party prepared 
to retire, for a strenuous day lay ahead. Harry 
gave the films their last bath in a pan of fresh 
water, and then carefully suspended them from 
the limbs of a near-by bush so they could not blow 
against anything until they should dry. In the 
morning they would begin to burn the huge slash 
piles. It was customary to wait until there was 
a good deal of snow to do it, for safety’s sake, but 
this was an exception. 

When Uncle Bob came in from picketing the 
horses ‘‘Father Time” followed him to the fire 
and there eagerly devoured the pan of scraps that 
had been saved for him. The last recollections 
that Harry had before he fell asleep was of old 
“Father Time” standing above the fire, his long 
ears forward, his shaggy old head dropped to a 
comfortable angle, and his occasional grunt as he 
breathed the smoke-scented air. 

When the boys awoke in the morning. Uncle 
Bob already had the fire burning and was busily 
engaged in making sketches and figures in his note 
book. The boys emerged together, their hair 
towsled and their legs stiff from the ride. Uncle 
Bob looked up and called a kindly “Good Morn- 
ing,” then turning to Harvey he said: 

“Harvey, I wish you would slip on your boots 
and look about for ‘Father Time.’ He is gone. I 
never before knew him to leave the campfire, but 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHER TIME’’ 25 


he’s gone as sure as fate. The horses are scat- 
tered and I think some of these tie cutters have 
been about.” 

Harvey was off in a flash. Surely a Scout that 
could follow tracks and play stalking in the woods 
would have no trouble to locate so large an animal 
as “Father Time.” 

Harry made a dive for his films, and, to his 
utter astonishment, they were gone, too. He 
looked about him in surprise, and then supposing 
his uncle had taken them down he returned and 
asked about them. 

“Why, I didn’t touch them, my lad,” he re- 
plied. “Are they gone, too?” 

Gone they were, and no trace of them whatever 
was left on the bushes where they had hung. 

“Hum!” said Mr. Standish. “Mule gone, pic- 
tures gone. I don’t think Luke has brains enough 
to do a trick like that, but I’m not so sure about 
the boys. I’ve heard they are nobody’s fools. 
The mule was our only pack animal. We can’t 
carry our camp material without him. The pic- 
tures certainly will condemn any tie cutter, for a 
camera doesn’t lie. I see it all, my boy. This is 
their game. What a fool I am! They have 
stolen the pictures. They probably reasoned you 
used up all your films, and by taking the mule they 
figured we would either have to leave our equip- 
ment, which they would promptly appropriate, or 


26 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


that we would be delayed long enough so that they 
and the old man could get safely out of the coun- 
try before we could get back and make our report. 
Well, iUs too bad, my boy, too bad.’’ 

Just then Harvey came tearing through the 
woods from the direction of the stream. 

found him. Uncle; I found him — ^but he’s 
dead!” 

‘‘Dead?” echoed the Ranger, as he rose and 
grabbed his gun. “Where, lad?” 

Harvey led the way to where “Father Time” 
lay dead in the grass. Mr. Standish made a hasty 
examination, a puzzled look on his face. “This 
Scout cooking doesn’t seem to have agreed with 
you, old boy,” he said sadly. “And not even a 
shovel to give you a decent burial I But we ’ll not 
leave you for the birds — ^we’ll cremate you. The 
point just now is, what killed you? Could Luke 
have done it? It doesn’t seem possible, and 
yet—” 

Breakfast was eaten in silence, and then the 
Ranger told the boys to break and pack camp and 
to arrange to take with them just what they must 
have, for what they did take would have to be 
tied on behind their saddles. While they were 
busy at this job Mr. Standish went to see what 
could be done with the body of their faithful 
friend. 

As he stood looking at the dead animal he had 



Each one had his hands securely lashed to his side and 
sat astride a cow pony. {Page 27.) 







THE DEATH OF ^‘FATHER TIME’’ 27 


an idea. Hurriedly he walked to the trees where 
the films had hung and carefully examined the 
nearby brush and the ground. There were un- 
mistakable prints of ‘‘Father Time’s” feet, and 
to one side and a few feet away lay the sticks that 
had been attached to the bottom of the films to 
keep them from curling. “Father Time” had 
eaten the precious negatives and they had kiUed 
him. 

Uncle Bob carried the sticks to camp and of- 
fered his explanation. The boys listened in 
amazement. Then turning, Harry said, half 
sadly : 

“Harvey, I don’t know anything about scout- 
ing when there is a mule in the party, do you ? ’ ’ 

“Anyway, the old boy took some mighty vivid 
impressions of this tie cutter’s camp with him,” 
laughed Harvey. 

An hour later, just as they were preparing to 
start home, the strangest procession the boys had 
ever seen came out of the woods opposite their 
camp and halted. There was an old, old man — 
gray-bearded and stoop-shouldered, and two illy 
clad, dirty younger men. Each one had his hands 
securely lashed to his side and sat astride a cow 
pony. Just behind them were two well-mounted 
cowboys, a heavy six shooter on each hip. They 
halted and Mr. Standish went out to meet them. 

“Guess these be the scamps you have been 


28 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


after for a long spell, Mr. Standish,^’ volunteered 
one of the cowboys. ‘‘We rounded them up for 
you, but had an awful scrap before we collared 
them. Guess Jim Temple will be laid up the rest 
of his days, but we proposed to settle this tie 
cutting gang this time once for all. We’re 
going to take them direct to the Supervisor. If 
he don’t jug ’em tight we are going to have a 
bangin’ bee over in Skunk Canyon, ’cause we just 
naturally can’t stand this here pesky thievin’ any 
longer. What’s more, a man’s life isn’t safe with 
this gang of desperadoes running the country. I 
tell you it’s time to act serious.” 

“Four calves in three weeks, to say nothing of 
the ornerist fire we have ever had to fight,” 
growled the other cowboy. “It’s got to stop. 
Just take a look at the valley too. Suppose you 
were here to get ’em, wasn’t you!” 

The prisoners glowered fiercely at the men and 
cursed as the Eanger carefully examined the 
ropes that bound them, for he realized that he 
was dealing with desperate characters and meant 
to take no chances. He had evidence aplenty, 
and now he had Old Luke and the boys and was 
ready to return. 

“I believe we have all of the gang right here,” 
he said, “and the Supervisor will be very grate- 
ful to you men for your help. ’ ’ 

“Seems to me there is another one yet,” said 


THE DEATH OF ‘‘FATHER TIME’^ 29 


the first cowboy, “but we couldnT find him — at 
least there have been four of them mixed up in 
some of these raids, but we ’ll get him if he shows 
up, and we’ll put him with the rest.” 

Harry, who was watching Old Luke, noted that 
as the cowboy spoke, Luke winked to the oldest 
boy and nodded his head knowingly. 


CHAPTER II 


THE PKICE OF CARELESSNESS 


M e. STANDISH force-marched the little 
party of tie cutters down the canyon, 
but in order to avoid any commotion he 
took them over a little used trail direct to the 
home of the Sheriff, sending the boys to the cabin 
ahead of him. 

Aunt BeUe had expected them and had a gener- 
ous hot supper all prepared. 

‘‘Was there any mail?” cried both boys, as 
they entered the gate. 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Standish. “one for each 
of you. ’ ’ 

“Was mine from Mother, Aunt Belief” insisted 
Harvey, “or from the Scout Master? It’s about 
time he was writing us, it seems to me. Why, 
the Troop has had time to go all to smash in the 
week we have been gone, and no word. He prom- 
ised to write. I’m wondering how Prell is 
making it as Patrol Leader in my absence.” 

Under Harry’s plate was a big fat letter from 
Mother and under Harvey’s one from the Scout 
Master. 

“Well, what do you know about that!” 

30 


THE PEICE OF CAEELESSNESS 31 


ejaculated Harry at length, ripping his open and 
scanning the page hurriedly. 

‘‘Well, V\l he jiggered,’^ echoed Harvey, hastily 
re-reading to make sure he had made no mistake. 
“Scarlet fever epidemic! — Epidemic, that means 
everybody has it. Why say. Aunt Belle, just look 
at this. And we aren’t to go home.” 

“Prell has it, and Smith, and Dobson from our 
Troop,” cried Harry, “and Mr. Tate is quite 
sick. Can’t go home! Why not, Harvey?” 

“Why, Mother says it isn’t safe for us to come. 
School isn’t to open, and no one can leave or 
enter the town. Here, read it yourself. Let’s 
see what Mr. Tate has to say.” 

The hoys hastily exchanged letters and began 
again. Both faces brightened at the same sec- 
ond as one shouted : 

“Uncle Bob, we don’t have to go home and we 
are to stay with you indefinitely — that might 
nflan forever. Say, isn’t that bully? I’m sorry 
for the other fellows, but that’s great for us — 
no school, no work; just hike and fish and — ” 

“Hear stories and eat popovers and sleep and 
read,” interrupted the other lad. But Uncle Bob 
was busy reading the letter that had come to him 
also from the boys’ mother, and had nothing to 
say. At last he laid it down and thought medita- 
tively for a full moment. 

“Well, boys, we’ll be glad to have you with us. 


32 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


as far as that goes, but listen to me — ^you can^t 
stay here with me all Fall and just loaf away your 
time. ThaUs contrary to all principles of con- 
servation, and you know that that is my hobby. 
No, if you are going to stay with me, you just 
make up your minds you are going to school just 
the same, and to the most practical school teacher 
in all the world — Old Dame Nature, in her big 
school-house of ‘Out-doors.’ You’ll get to hike, 
and fish, and all that, all right, but you will be re- 
sponsible for definite tasks and be expected to 
learn your lessons just the same. What’s more, 
remember, I’m to be the School Principal, and I’ll 
see to it that there is no loafing. Just yesterday 
the Supervisor was wishing for more forest 
guards so some of the rest of us could give our 
undivided attention to the beetle pest that is 
raging just now on upper Rock Creek; besides, 
many tie cutters are making no end of extra work 
just now. Seems that every day brings news of 
some trouble of their making. I will make forest 
rangers out of you lads, and we’ll mighty soon 
tell if there is any good in this Boy Scout busi- 
ness. I’ll talk it over with Mr. Hastings at once. ’ ’ 
He rose and went to the telephone. 

The boys fairly hugged themselves with delight 
— real forest rangers on the biggest of all Uncle 
Sam’s Reserves! “I’m going to start a diary at 


THE PEICE OF CAEELESSNESS 33 


once,’^ cried Harry, ‘^and call it ‘Scouting for 
Uncle Sam on the Pike National Forest.^ ’’ 

“I^m going to call mine the ‘Adventures of a 
Tenderfoot,^ said Harvey, “and by keeping 
careful notes we can have a lot of worth-while in- 
formation for the Troop when we do get back/’ 

“And what’s more, we’ll both get busy and win 
our merit badges for forestry,” said Harry. 
“We are lucky dogs for sure. But remember we 
have simply got to make good in this undertaking, 
for the honor of Plainville Troop. ’ ’ 

The Supervisor was entirely willing to try the 
scheme as long as the boys were under Mr. 
Standish’s direct charge, so all details were left 
to him. The rest of the evening was spent in 
working out plans. The Standish cabin was to 
become headquarters for all three Foresters. 
Harry was to be given the Goose-trail that led to 
the top of Black Mountain for his special terri- 
tory, and Harvey was to take the Bowlder-trail 
that led to ‘ ‘ Little Big Chief. ’ ’ That would be his 
last lookout. Tompkins, who had been riding 
these two trails, alternate days, would thus be 
freed to work with Mr. Standish and the Super- 
visor on the beetle ravishes of upper Beaver 
Canyon. 

“I’ll expect each of you to carry a note book, 
boys,” Uncle Bob declared, “and I want you to 


34 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


make careful notes of everything — such as kinds 
of trees, weather signs, plant and animal life, 
tracks, and so forth; then, evenings that I get 
home, we will have a little school together and see 
what we can learn. I must find out what good ob- 
servers you are first of all, for no matter how 
much training you have along other lines, if you 
are not good observers you will never make good 
foresters. Vll ride both trails with you to-mor- 
row and explain your duties carefully so there 
will be no mistaking them. I am about to give 
each of you boys a tremendous responsibility. 
You are to become the sole guardians of a half- 
million acres of splendid forest, and one careless 
hour and the honor of our station is gone. If 
your Scouting has been thorough it will stand you 
in good stead. I will supply you each with a pair 
of field glasses and a gun. For the present we 
will have to get along with what horses we have, 
but that can be arranged. We will have a thirty 
minutes’ target practice each morning before 
breakfast — ^not because you will need to kill any- 
thing but because it will train you eye and hand 
to harmonious action and give you keener judg- 
ment. Eemember that while I am your uncle, 
during working hours I am your supervisor in the 
service and I will expect you to act accordingly.” 

Each boy wrote an enthusiastic letter home that 
night and then retired, for they were weary from 


THE PRICE OF CARELESSNESS 35 


the long excitement of capturing Old Luke, and 
from the trip into the timber; besides, on the 
morrow they were to become assistants to Uncle 
Sam and must be in the pink of condition. 

Uncle Bob and Aunt Belle sat a long time by the 
fire planning. Uncle Bob chuckling all the while. 
He had always had his pet theories of how boys 
ought to be schooled, but had never been fortu- 
nate enough to be the father of a boy, so all his 
ideas had gone to waste until now. 

‘Hdl give those lads the best year’s schooling 
of their lives. Belle,” he said, between chuckles. 
‘‘Mary will never know them when she gets them 
back home again. I’m not much on the Algebra 
and Latin, I know, but I can teach them a heap of 
things that aren’t in books.” 

The sun was just peeping over the crag-crowned 
summit of Cheyenne as the new recruits rode out 
of the corral and into the wide trail that led into 
the heavy timber. There was a fresh bracing 
quality to the air that fairly sent the blood tin- 
gling through the boys ’ veins. 

“There’s a yellow pine and there’s an Engel- 
mann spruce and a quaking aspen and a silver 
spruce,” called Harry in high spirits. 

“And they are all ours, Harry,” said Harvey 
half seriously. “I suppose we will come to know 
them all just like we do the boys — their good 
points and the weak ones, what they are good for 


36 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


and what they are liable to do under given cir- 
cumstances.’’ 

<‘Yes, and who knows, but that we will be called 
on to bandage some of them or to amputate a 
limb or a finger. ‘First aid’ to trees — ^ha! ha I 
There is one thing certain, though, we won’t have 
to give them any artificial respiration. The band- 
aging part will be easy. ’ ’ 

“See those woodpeckers!” cried Harry, ex- 
citedly. “Why, there must be twenty of them on 
that one tree — ‘Red Heads’ we call them. Uncle, 
what are they doing there together ! ’ ’ 

Uncle Bob laughed. “Why, boys, that is Dr. 
Fhcker’s laboratory of surgery.” 

“Of surgery?” questioned Harry. 

“Yes, we would not have a decent standing for- 
est in America to-day if it wasn’t for the faith- 
ful, untiring efforts of all the Doctor Wood- 
peckers. They are the forest tree surgeons. 
They annually consume millions upon millions of 
insects that devour the trees. There, just take 
your glass and watch that fellow there. See how 
he taps and taps upon the trunk. His keen sense 
of hearing tells him when he has found the hol- 
lowed-out nest of a worm or insect and he sets to 
work at once to dig him out. He does it so clev- 
erly and so neatly that in most instances the tree 
heals over again and gets well. Just imagine a 
million such birds operating here in our forest, 


THE PRICE OF CARELESSNESS 37 


eating perhaps two hundred worms or insects a 
day. Don’t you see? I’ll tell you more about old 
Dr. Woodpecker some other time. Harry, here is 
your first lookout. Let’s dismount.” 

In a moment all three were standing on a rugged 
cliff that looked far out over the whole of Beaver 
Canyon to Cheyenne, while above them and be- 
hind them were the tops of a million trees. 

‘Hn case you are able to distinguish a fire from 
any of these lookouts, pause long enough to care- 
fully get the exact lay of the land, deliberately 
choose your path as nearly as is possible, and 
then make all haste to the scene of trouble. If 
you are on the alert, it isn’t probable that a fire 
will get enough of a start but that prompt, heroic 
action on your part will put it out. However, if 
you should see that it is already a heavy fire, ride 
to the cabin, ring the Supervisor on the ’phone 
and give him detailed directions ; then go at once 
to the fire yourself and use your judgment about 
attacking it. Stay until help comes, and if none 
comes stay yourself until all has been done that 
is possible. Keep a sharp lookout for campers, 
and in case any cross your track be friendly to 
them, but in the course of your conversation warn 
them to be very cautious, as they are the most 
dangerous of all causes of forest fires. 

^‘Yonder you see a big fire-burned area. You 
can tell it by the small, dense second growth that 


38 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


is coming on. Evidently the wind was blowing 
due south and a gale, as there is a fairly straight 
boundary on both sides. The river shut otf the 
ground-fire on the left and the draught of the 
canyon held it from burning too high on the ridge. 
It was probably started by lightning, for that is 
what we call ‘ Spike Peak Canyon. ’ Do you notice 
how many of those Western yellow pines have a 
dead top? Well, those are the result of lightning. 
We are removing them from the Eeserve as fast 
as possible, for it is in just such wounded trees 
as those that all sorts of insect-pests, including 
the beetle, germinate and multiply by the millions. 
Earely, if ever, will an insect attack a perfectly 
healthy tree. It^s a good deal like disease, boys. 
It rarely can find a footing in a perfectly sound, 
healthy body.’’ 

They were mounted again when a sudden shrill 
squeal of pain in an adjoining thicket, punctuated 
by a hoarser growl of anger and despair, at- 
tracted them. In a second Uncle Bob was on the 
ground again, his big Colt revolver gleaming in 
his hand. Before the boys could slip out of their 
saddles Mr. Standish had slipped into the thick 
young spruce. The boys pushed in after him. 
The squealing increased and the growling became 
a roar of rage. Soon they caught sight of Uncle 
Bob just ahead, with the bushes parted, gazing 


THE PEICE OF CAEELESSNESS 39 


down into a hidden gulch. He motioned them to 
come quietly, while he whispered, “It’s old ‘Bald 
Spot’ and her cubs, and they are in an awful 
calamity.” 

The hoys crouched law and gazed in the direc- 
tion of the wild pandemonium, surprised at Uncle 
Bob ’s chuckle and his unconcern. Surely, if there 
was a whole valley full of angry bears, it was no 
time to he laughing. But laugh Uncle Bob did 
in loud gutfaws. The boys had never seen such 
a curious sight before. Below them lay a re- 
cently blown-down spike top that had been broken 
in two about half way up by the terrific fall. To 
one side sat an old black bear on her haunches, 
pawing her nose and head as if all the mosquitoes 
in Alaska had suddenly settled upon her smelling 
apparatus, while tumbling on the ground about 
her were three half-grown cubs, going through 
more strange antics than the Scouts ever dreamed 
a bear was capable of. They were more agile 
than a cat and quicker than lightning. 

The Scouts instinctively turned to Mr. Standish, 
who was now convulsed with laughter, for an ex- 
planation. 

“Honey,” he managed to say — “wild honey. 
They have been robbing a bees ’ hive in that fallen 
tree and the whole swarm is upon them.” 

Suddenly the mother bear broke and ran for the 


40 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


timber, pawing wildly as she went, the cubs after 
her in full retreat. As they turned to go to their 
horses Harry stopped and listened. 

thought I heard some one walking over by 
the horses,’’ he said, ‘^but I must have been mis- 
taken for I don’t see any one.” 

“That’s one of the tricks of the forest,” said 
Mr. Standish. “You often think there is some 
one near you. Keep your eyes open always and 
take a good look at every stranger. Many sup- 
pose that the robber of the Florence Post Office 
is hiding in this valley, but I don’t think it prob- 
able or we would have seen something of him. ’ ’ 

They were mounted again now and soon 
rounded a mighty monolith of pink granite, then 
began to descend in long, graceful curves through 
the trees. In a few moments they were in “Spike 
Top” Canyon by a majestic water fall. 

“The first time I came to these falls, boys, I 
shot an immense twelve-point buck just there, but 
it was only because we were badly in need of 
meat. I never come to them now but I imagine 
that I see the princely fellow lift his head from 
the cool stream and gaze at me pleadingly. 
What wouldn’t I have given after it was over to 
have been able to bring him back to life again, 
for I have learned since that killing the wild 
things in the forest is like pulling the flowers 
from your garden.” 


THE PRICE OF CARELESSNESS 41 


By noon they had returned to the cabin, and 
ate ravenously, but were eager to be off again on 
the other trail. Just before leaving, the Super- 
visor ^phoned Mr. Standish that a strange man 
had been reported seen wandering in the valley 
and that, in all probability, it was the Florence 
robber; every man in the Service was being in- 
formed, and a sharp lookout was to be kept by all. 

‘‘Yonder is a beaver dam,’’ said Uncle Bob, 
early in the afternoon, and both boys were all in- 
terest in a moment, for they were both members 
of the Beaver Patrol and had had carefully 
drilled into them many times the admirable quali- 
ties of Mr. Beaver, from his industry to his fore- 
sight. 

“Have you ever really seen them at work, Uncle 
Bob!” asked Harry, eagerly. “I’d give a great 
deal to see a real beaver doing something.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, many a time, boys. I could spin you 
yarns all night about them if I once got started. 
They are, in a way, pets of mine, for you see they 
are the real engineers of the forests — conserva- 
tion experts, every one of them. Every fertile 
valley in these Rocky Mountains is the result of 
beaver. Every mountain meadow owes its exist- 
ence to them. They regulate the flow of rivers, 
they build ponds that act as settlers to catch the 
rich sediment that is washed from the mountain- 
sides in the spring, and when these crude ponds 


42 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


fill, they courageously build new dams to back the 
water up farther. Once, over in the Rock Creek 
Canyon after a terrific cloudburst that washed 
out hundreds of beaver dams and eroded the fer- 
tile meadows to a depth of twenty feet, I discov- 
ered the remains of eight beaver dams built one 
upon another, showing that there was twenty feet 
of rich leaf-mold and sediment settled upon an 
otherwise rocky gulch. Seeds had found lodg- 
ment and grew rapidly — ^first an aspen grove, then 
an alder thicket, and then young spruce, and now, 
a splendid forest. Many of the finest lodge pole 
pine on the Pike Forest are in that canyon grow- 
ing in that great depth of fertile soil gathered by 
beaver dams. 

‘‘Those crude, dome-shaped piles of mud and 
sticks are their homes, and in them, in the winter, 
they pile their store of tender aspen poles that 
serve as food and later as material for their dams. 
Sometimes I have seen twenty beaver at one time 
all working together. To ‘work like a beaver’ is 
to work indeed, and to do it with little fuss and 
noise. No boss is needed. 

“Once I saw — ” Two shots rang out on the 
still, clear air and resounded up the valley. Uncle 
Bob stopped short. 

“That is my signal to return to the cabin with- 
out delay,” he said. “I wonder what’s up — con- 
vict found? More trouble at that saw mill. I’ll 


THE PEICE OF CARELESSNESS 43 


just bet. 1^11 be so glad when we get these spike 
tops all cut out and that saw mill gone. They 
worry me almost to death. First, iFs a few of 
my chickens gone, then a horse for a few days, 
then a drunken fight among the cutters, in which 
some one gets killed. See here, boys, I am going 
to take the short cut home and let you follow the 
trail on in, so you can see just exactly how it comes 
out on the mountain. You ought to reach the 
cabin by five, if you keep moving. Remember, 
keep your eyes open. Be prepared. Good-by. 
He was gone at a lively gallop, and the two boys 
found themselves alone in a strange canyon with 
many miles of trail ahead of them to be traveled 
before night. 

‘H’m certainly interested in these beaver, 
Harry, and I’d be tickled to death to see just one,” 
said Harvey. ‘‘Let’s see, wasn’t it from that big 
crag that he said he had watched them so often! 
Then our trail must go that way. Let’s hurry on 
and perhaps it will be our good luck to see one 
to-day. ’ ’ 

A few moments ’ riding brought them at last to 
the big overhanging cliff, and slipping quickly 
from their horses they hurried to the edge, care- 
fully parted the bushes and gazed down into the 
placid pond below them with its ragged dam 
across one end. Breathlessly they waited, their 
eyes riveted on the pond, but there was scarcely a 


44 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


ripple on its glassy surface. They thought they 
were doomed to disappointment and were about 
to retreat to their horses when Harry nudged 
Harvey gently and pointed his finger. ‘‘See 
there!’’ he cried. A lone beaver had risen 
quietly to the surface of the water, just in front 
of the largest mud hut, and was noiselessly mak- 
ing for the aspen park, swimming with the utmost 
ease through the majestic inverted shadows of 
pine and crag. Suddenly he stopped, raised his 
head higher as if he scented danger, and then 
making a complete circuit of the pond came back 
to the aspen park and climbed onto the bank, just 
as a man stepped out of the bushes and then dis- 
appeared in the timber. Soon two other beaver 
clambered out and awkwardly made their way to 
the aspen grove, apparently intent on something. 
Both boys had their glasses out now and were 
soon entirely engrossed in the movements of the 
little engineers, completely forgetting the man 
they had seen for that fleeting instant. Each 
beaver selected an aspen and after a brief study 
of it went to work to cut it down. 

“You don’t think that big one will try to cut 
that huge aspen, do you I” breathed Harry. 

“What can they want with that big tree, any- 
way?” said Harvey. “Surely, it’s too tough for 
food.” 

“Look! Look! — Isn’t that splendid?” ex- 


THE PRICE OF CARELESSNESS 45 


claimed Harry. he succeeds in cutting it, 
it will fall exactly across the dam and will make 
an excellent network to build to, and perhaps he 
will save the smaller branches for food.’’ 

Evidently Mr. Beaver was satisfied with his 
calculations, for quite as suddenly as he had come 
he put his forepaws against the yellow trunk, 
spread his hind legs, braced himself, sat back on 
his broad paddle-like tgiil, and calmly began to 
chisel away the bark at a convenient height from 
the ground and on the side of the tree away from 
the dam. The boys were fairly amazed at the 
progress he made and at the deft way in which he 
used the long chisel teeth that were set in the ex- 
treme front of his jaw. Shortly there was a 
strange thumping on the ground, and both boys 
turned just in time to see a three-inch aspen 
topple and fall. The ax-man had given the signal 
by whacking his tail three times on the soft ground 
beneath him. 

So entirely engrossed were the boys that they 
had entirely forgotten that they were Forest 
Rangers on guard or that they had ever had 
such things as horses. As they sat thus, with 
their backs to the trail, gazing into the pond 
below, suddenly the same gaunt, ragged man they 
had seen below them emerged from the trail and 
calmly stood watching them. His face was cov- 
ered with a long growth of dirty whiskers, his 


46 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


clothes were torn and ragged, and his head and 
shoulders drooped noticeably. He cast furtive 
glances about him, as if to determine if he were 
pursued, and was about to cross over to the boys 
when his eye caught sight of the two horses. 
Suddenly he became as alert as a cat. Hurrying 
to where they were grazing he hastily tied one 
to a nearby branch, slipped into the saddle of the 
other, then carefully guiding the horse otf the 
hard trail onto the soft pine needles, was gone. 
Ten minutes afterward the boys heard loud voices 
coming up the trail, and in a moment were on 
their feet and hurrying to their horses. 

‘HUs Uncle Bob,’’ breathed Harry. 

‘‘And the Supervisor, and Tompkins,” added 
Harvey. “And — gracious, it’s getting dusk! 
We are in for it now. I’ll bet. Why, we ought to 
have been home by now. What shall we do — 
wait for them, or go on! Do you suppose they 
are looking for us?” 

There was a spirited gallop, and the men 
emerged from the timber. To the boys’ utter 
astonishment, all were heavily armed, sober 
faced, and excited. 

“Where’s my horse?” cried Harry, in con- 
sternation. 

“Who tied mine this way? I’m sure I didn’t,” 
said Harvey. 

“Hello, boys!” cried Uncle Bob. “Gracious, 


THE PEICE OF CARELESSNESS 47 


I’m glad you are safe! Have you seen any one 
pass you on this trail the last two hours? What 
has kept you here so long, anyway? Where is 
your horse, Harry?” 

The boys explained what they had been doing, 
but were at a total loss to account for the missing 
horse or for the other horse being tied. Evi- 
dently they had had a visitor. 

‘‘He came this way. Bob,” said the Supervisor, 
positively, “and he is at this hour racing for free- 
dom on a Forest Service horse. That is very un- 
fortunate. If he hadn’t come onto these green 
Rangers we would have had him by night, for he 
was about exhausted.” Then, turning disgust- 
edly, he said, “Boys, I thought you were Scouts. 
I believe a herd of elephants could cross your trail 
in plain daylight and you wouldn’t know it.” 

“Who came this way. Uncle Bob?” asked both 
boys eagerly. “Oh, we are so sorry if we were 
careless. We know we are green, but you told 
us to keep our eyes open for wild life and — ” 

‘ ‘ The real ‘wild life’ got by you boys this time,” 
said Uncle Bob, kindly. “A real, sure-enough 
desperado crossed your trail during the last hour, 
and we were so in hopes you boys, being seasoned 
Scouts, would detain him or trail him until we 
could come to your help. The entire county is 
hunting him just now with armed posses. He is 
not many miles from this pond, either. But, even 


48 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


with the horse, he has no means to make fire and 
we will starve him out yet. He has been on the 
constant move for forty-eight hours, and must 
soon be exhausted. ’ ^ 

‘‘But, Uncle, called Harry in great excitement, 
“my haversack with my lunch and scout-ax and 
matches were on the saddle. I hung it there while 
we went to watch the beaver. 1^11 bet we saw your 
man, though.’’ 

The Supervisor scowled again and muttered 
something more about “greenhorns” as he swung 
his pony about in the trail, impatient to be olf. 
Uncle Bob only whistled his consternation, and 
then, as if to make the very best of a bad job, he 
ordered the boys to at once start for the cabin with 
all possible speed. 

“I’ll go ahead. The scoundrel might go to the 
cabin, and if by any chance he should get hold of 
a weapon his final capture will be expensive. But 
get him we must, and I had counted on you boys.” 

“I’m sure he won’t get any weapon with Aunt 
Belle there,” said Harvey, quite positively. 

A half hour later the main trail crossed an 
abandoned trail that in former years had led to 
the cabin. As the boys approached, Harry 
thought he heard a horse whinny. He stopped, 
dropped into the bushes and waited. Harvey was 
hardly out of sight on his horse when the young 
spruce divided and the desperado, mounted on 


THE PEICE OF CAEELESSNESS 49 


Harry’s pony, came down the other trail. Over 
his shoulder was slung a sawed-off Winchester 
rifle that Harry suddenly realized belonged to 
Uncle Bob. The Scout groaned to himself as he 
thought of all the possible consequences of their 
little carelessness. 

‘‘Hum! We haven’t honored Plainville Troop 
much to-day,” he said, as the horse and rider dis- 
appeared down the trail. “Well, by Jimminy, 
I’ve learned my lesson, and I’ll show that Super- 
visor yet.” The boy was speeding down the trail 
now, and his mind was busy. 


CHAPTER III 


TRAILING A DESPERADO 

A DESPERADO, a sawed-off Winches- 
/% ter, a cook kit, ax, pony, and supplies 
1 ^ — that’s going some!” cried the Su- 

pervisor, ‘‘and a dozen of us hunting him ready to 
shoot him on sight. If he hadn’t gotten that 
horse we would have had him. ’ ’ 

“Easy a bit, Mr. Hastings,” said Boh softly. 
“That won’t get us anywhere now. Let’s do less 
talking and some real thinking. It strikes me that 
whoever that chap was, he knows this valley like 
a book. Do you suppose he could be one of those 
discharged cutters? How did he know Belle was 
gone? You don’t suppose there could be any 
connection between that rascal and Belle’s disap- 
pearance, do you ? ” 

Pandemonium reigned at the Forester’s cabin. 
Uncle Bob was noticeably excited, while the Super- 
visor was almost beside himself with rage. Aunt 
Belle was gone and had left no word of any kind. 
Mr. Standish’s sawed-off Winchester was also 
gone, and a whole box of ammunition. The larder 
had also been raided, but so far as everything else 

50 


TRAILING A DESPERADO 


51 


was concerned it seemed to be in its usual place. 

‘‘I supposed it was Belle who gave me the signal 
to come to the cabin,’’ said Mr. Standish. ‘^If I 
hadn’t met you, Tompkins, coming on the trail and 
gotten information of the affair at Florence, I, of 
course, would have gone straight to her to see 
what was wrong. She often leaves this way when 
some one summons her to some lonely ranch where 
there is sickness, but she always leaves a note, in 
case I might come home and find her gone. I 
can’t understand it.” 

‘^She might have gone to the sawmill. Bob,” 
suggested Tompkins, ‘^expecting to get back be- 
fore supper. They are always needing a nurse 
over there anyway. I’ll just hop on Nance and 
ride over that way. ’ ’ 

The boys hurried in and found the two men 
facing each other in the center of the kitchen, 
each trying to find an answer in the face of the 
other. 

‘‘I saw him. Uncle Bob,” cried Harry, between 
breaths, ‘^and he had a gun — a funny, pug-nosed 
one. He had a basket on his arm, too, and he 
was smiling. It was the same man we saw yester- 
day in Spike Top and again at the Beaver Dam.” 

Both men gazed at the boy as if they had not 
heard aright. 

‘^He was going due North on a cow trail,” con- 
tinued Harry, ^^and rode as easily as if he had 


52 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


been born in the saddle. He didnT see me, 
though, for I was hidden in the bushes. I heard 
the pony whinny, and I hid. I’d know him again 
in a thousand. He was tall, and his eyes were 
small and very sharp, and his ears were very 
large. He was awfully humped over and — ” 

The gate clicked and all jumped to the window 
to see what was coming. Aunt Belle and Tomp- 
kins were hurrying toward them, talking rapidly. 

‘‘Oh, Bob! What has happened!” she cried, 
as she opened the door. “I have been such a fool. 
I should have known better, but he was so earnest 
and I didn’t think, but just hurried. He said that 
a cutter had cut an artery just above the knee, 
and that I must go at once. He was riding on 
over to Duffields to telegraph for the doctor. I 
just took my little emergency kit and hurried as 
fast as I could go. At the mill they told me I 
had been misinformed, that there had been no 
accident at all, and told me about half of the cut- 
ters being off hunting a man that has escaped an 
armed posse at Florence, — ^first, he robbed the 
post office at that place and then fatally shot the 
Post Master. A rumor has reached the mill that 
it was High Tucker, a former boss cutter. The 
Sheriff believed he would head straight for this 
county, hoping to find shelter in one of the lumber 
camps.” 

At the name of High Tucker, Tompkins’ eyes 


TEAILING A DESPEEADO 53 

suddenly snapped, and then he turned quickly 
away. 

‘‘What sort of a looking fellow came to the door 
and told you of the accident, Belle T’ asked Bob, 
eagerly. 

“Very tall, with dirty whiskers, keen blue eyes, 
and a sad sort of a face. ’ ’ 

“That was him. Aunt Belle!’’ cried Harry, in 
great excitement. “Exactly!” 

“Well, he is riding at large, with my shot gun, 
shells, and horse,” said Mr. Standish, “to say 
nothing of your to-day’s baking, and dear knows 
what else.” 

“High Tucker, eh?” said the Supervisor. “I 
don’t believe it. He was a harmless half-wit, and 
some one is trying to put a game on him. When 
he worked on the range with us he used to keep 
referring to the days when he was a real bad 
man, but we always thought it was just in his 
mind.” 

“But no one is sure it was High. It might be 
some one else. High was always so good to folks 
in trouble,” said Mrs. Standish. 

“Well, I would know High if I should see him, 
anyway,” said Bob. “High and I are old friends. 
If I thought it was him, I ’d hate to hunt him like 
a deer. He is a poor, harmless fellow who would 
do no one any wrong. There must be some mis- 
take on this business.” 


54 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘High was the best man on a beetle hunt that 
I have ever seen,’’ said the Supervisor. “I’d 
like to have him now for a few weeks, until we get 
those trees cut and burned. They are spreading 
every day, and thousands upon thousands of acres 
of excellent forest are going to be infected there 
in another month. He could go out and find the 
mother-beetle tree in an endless tract, after ex- 
perienced foresters had spent weeks trying to lo- 
cate the source of infection. If he would just 
leave that ‘rot-gut’ whisky alone I could give 
him employment and decent quarters all the time ; 
but he loves life in some lonely gulch too well to 
live with other folks.” 

After supper, as they sat about talking over 
the events of the day, Tompkins suddenly changed 
the subject. 

“Well, what are we going to do about it to- 
morrow?” he enquired. “Are we going to give 
up that bug expedition and hunt poor High, or 
are we going to get at that beetle attack? Seems 
to me that is of a heap more importance just now 
than capturing High. I’d hate to see the old 
fellow hung, anyway. I don’t believe now, and 
never will, that it was High. Sounds a lot more 
like one of the tricks of Old Luke’s boys.” 

“You are right, Tompkins,” said the Super- 
visor. “It’s now or never on that beetle deal. 
We must be at it to-morrow. I have no time to 


TEAILING A DESPERADO 


55 


be hunting High Tucker. I had about decided to 
take these greenhorn Scouts along with us, to help 
care for camp, so we could give our whole time to 
the pest, but I donT know. I^m afraid they would 
be off chasing sunbeams somewhere. How about 
it, Bobr^ 

Both boys were eager, even if they were hurt 
just a little, and were crazy to prove their real 
worth to the skeptical Supervisor. It was now in 
this trying moment that their Scoutcraft won the 
day. Both boys were sorely tempted to speak up 
and give him a piece of their minds for rubbing it 
in so often, yet they remembered that he was their 
superior in the Service and that a Scout is always 
courteous. 

‘‘Sir, give us a chance. You are judging us too 
quickly. I doubt if you would (he was about to 
say — ‘have seen that outlaw yourself if you had 
been in our place to-day,^ but a sharp nudge from 
Harry brought him back to himself, and he con- 
tinued, a bit confused) find better camp builders, 
even among your trained rangers, than we boys. 
Give us but a chance. ’ ’ 

“How about it, Bob?^^ questioned Mr. Hast- 
ings. 

“Well, I^d hate to leave them here just now, 
with a desperado roaming these hills armed with 
my old rifle. I believe in the lads, sir, but will 
agree to whatever you say. They were a great 


56 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


help to me on my little trip after the tie cutters, 
and can certainly cook on an open fire. Old 
Barnabas Bay is not in it with these lads when 
it comes to handling a skillet, I tell you that ; and 
I^d feel better to take them along with me, under 
the circumstances, if they can go with your ap- 
proval. ’ ’ 

‘‘Go, they shall,’’ said the Supervisor, posi- 
tively, “and we’ll see about their cooking. I’ll 
bet they can’t either of them toss flap-jacks or 
make a decent twist, but they will do to fetch 
water and such things.” Harry saw a twinkle in 
the gray eyes for the first time, and felt ever so 
much more comfortable. 

“If we are to go, sir, tell us a bit about these 
beetle pests, won’t you, so we can understand 
what you are all talking about. ’ ’ 

“Well said, my lad. That is the proper atti- 
tude. We don’t any of us know any too much 
about the ravagers, but such expeditions as this 
we are about to start on are constantly adding new 
information. Every species of tree in America, 
save the Giant Sequyas of California, is subject 
to terrific onslaughts of insects that take an annual 
toll in loss to the forest of many million dollars. 
In fact, so great are the depredations of the bee- 
tles and weevils that it is now a well established 
fact that they cause more loss to timber each 
year than all the forest fires combined. There 


TRAILING A DESPERADO 


57 


are thousands of insects that prey on trees from 
the time they are a seedling to ripe old age, at- 
tacking roots, bark, tender shoots, stems, blos- 
soms, and fruit. 

‘^The pine beetle burrows into the trees to lay 
its eggs in the tender inner bark. When once 
inside they cut transverse tunnels about the trees 
and in a short time completely girdle it, cutting 
off its supply of sap. The tree quickly dies, and 
soon becomes the nesting place of countless mil- 
lions of little grubs that finally hatch into beetles 
again, and the whole family of, say a half million, 
swarm out and attack the trees nearest to them. 
Stunted trees, spike tops, and partially dead tim- 
ber are the best breeding places until the swarm 
becomes large enough, then they attack every- 
thing in sight, and not uncommonly deforest a 
vast area in one season. Now, of course, the birds 
prey on these beetles, and certain species of wasps 
are very fond of the grubs when they can be 
gotten at. The woodpecker is especially valuable 
for his services in this connection, and if we just 
had enough of them that we could transport from 
place to place, as a pest makes itself known, we 
would soon get it under control, provided we could 
locate the infected spots before the swarm be- 
comes too large. 

‘‘Old High Tucker could locate the infected 
trees from their color, just as far as he could see 


58 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


them, and I wish that we had him to help ns now, 
instead of hunting him for murder. The most 
efficacious way to fight them is to cut the trees 
while the grubs are in process of incubation and 
burn them, thus destroying millions of the little 
demons before their appetite for fresh bark has 
matured. It is arduous labor, but there is a cer- 
tain satisfaction in it. 

‘‘There is another way that works very satis- 
factorily for certain species, and it is as simple 
as it is efficacious. We choose a large spruce, 
completely girdle it with an ax, and let it die. 
The beetles for miles away seem to be able to 
smell the chemical change, and come by the thou- 
sands to bury themselves in the sweet resinous 
bark. At the proper time the tree is then cut and 
burned. We shall probably use both methods on 
this trip. Now, if you lads are to accompany us, 
Tompkins and I must ride down to my cabin yet 
to-night and get a couple of extra horses. Gra- 
cious — nine o’clock! We must be away. We will 
be back at sunrise and will have horses for you. 
Better leave that other pony for Old High if he 
should come in our absence. Now, away to bed, 
all of you.” 

The boys had been in bed several hours when 
they were rudely awakened by a loud whinny and 
a rattle at the corral gate. They bounded out of 
bed like a flash, shivering in spite of themselves. 


TKAILING A DESPERADO 


59 


and peered out of the window, but could see noth- 
ing. They knew that Uncle Bob was up, for they 
could hear him. They hurried down stairs and 
found him carefully examining the trigger of an 
old rifle that had stood in the corner and that had 
not been used for years. 

‘^Some one is out there on horseback, boys,’^ he 
said calmly. ‘‘I think it^s our man after the other 
pony. If it’s High, I hate to shoot. You stay 
here, and I’ll surprise the scamp a bit from the 
woodshed. ’ ’ 

He slipped out, and the boys waited expec- 
tantly, both staring at the little window. There 
was the familiar squeak of the shed door, a 
whinny, and then Uncle Bob let fly his ancient 
weapon. They heard Mr. Standish in the yard 
and so cautiously ventured out. There, quiver- 
ing and breathing hard, stood Harry’s pony, but 
so far as they could tell there had been no rider. 
The pony had traveled hard and a long way, and 
was delighted to hear familiar voices again. He 
nosed Uncle Bob in a friendly fashion and 
whinnied his delight when he was turned into the 
barn. 

The three sat a long time by the woodshed in 
the black shadow, watching and waiting, but were 
finally compelled to go to bed without further ex- 
citement. 

They were all up at daylight again, and were 


60 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


ready for the trail when the Supervisor and 
Tompkins rode up the valley with the pack mules 
trailing along behind them. There were two 
spirited chestnuts for the boys, and much to their 
delight the Supervisor seemed to be in excellent 
mood and most friendly. They traveled all day, 
with scarcely a halt, through timber that was mag- 
nificent. On every side could be seen the results 
of the splendid Forest Service. Three times 
that day they heavily blazed trees that were to be 
cut and burned on the return trip. Late in the 
afternoon they reached the bettle-scourged area. 
Everywhere there were groups of magnificent 
trees that were brown and lifeless. The Super- 
visor took the boys to a mother-tree and with the 
aid of his pocket ax he quickly cut away the 
bark and exposed dozens of little galleries in the 
wood, each one occupied by a fat white grub and 
his little pile of newly-cut wood dust. He then 
made some rapid calculations on his note book, 
then, turning, said, ‘‘Boys, if all that tree is as 
well populated as those four inches I have just 
exposed, that tree alone contains twenty-seven 
thousand worms. — Quite a hotel, don’t you think? 
We’ll certainly do some housecleaning in this 
beetle valley the next few days. Now, get busy, 
set up camp and get supper started, and we men 
will cut the necessary boughs for beds, and see to 
watering and pasturing the mules and horses. 


TEAILING A DESPERADO 


61 


We probably will be here a week, unless something 
new develops on this Florence robbery and 
murder. ’ ^ 

The boys set to work with a will, using every bit 
of Scoutcraft they knew, and so well did things 
move that an hour before the appointed time 
everything was in readiness to put the supper on. 

‘‘Say, Harry, listen. I slipped a line and a few 
flies in my pocket, just for fun. That stream 
looks good to me. I^m going to slip off for an 
hour and see what I can do. They wonT miss me, 
and if I can get the Supervisor a nice fish for sup- 
per, it will help. I Ve noticed he is much more con- 
genial after he has eaten a good meal. You set 
up my little aluminum reflector and mix me just 
a bit of dressing — and, mind you. Scout, keep it 
out of sight.’’ He slipped behind the curtain of 
low alders and was gone. Harry busied himself, 
and made every appearance of being very busy. 
Twice the men started back toward the fire, but 
noticed infected trees both times and stopped to 
investigate. The second investigation led them 
completely out of sight in the big trees. 

Harvey rigged his line as he went, and when 
well away from camp he tried his luck. He was 
a bit impatient when he had no rises at all. He 
changed his fly and hurried on out of the little 
valley into the canyon where he was certain to 
find better pools. Just how fast he was traveling. 


62 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


or how far he had gone, he little realized. He 
was just conscious of a great desire to catch three 
fine trout. He entered the canyon with some little 
difficulty, for the only opening through the clitf 
was the one made by the stream by countless 
ages of washing and grinding. Such pools he had 
never seen before, and soon his efforts were re- 
warded with a fine speckled beauty. He tried 
again, got a splendid rise but, because of his im- 
patience, lost him. He pushed on farther, to 
where the valley widened out a bit and the pools 
were more accessible. As he went he noted a 
strange pile of new light colored rock up on the 
side of the canyon wall, but so absorbed was he 
in his fishing that he gave it not even a thought. 
Besides, just then a splendid trout rose, took his 
fly with a swish and was off into the deep water. 
He had no reel, and only a willow pole, conse- 
quently it taxed his very best judgment to keep it 
from snapping short. He played him back and 
forth, working him into the breaking point and 
then letting him have the line again. 

He was standing nearly knee-deep in the cold 
water when an alder limb flicked off his hat, and 
before he could grab it it was out on the swift 
current, around a great rock, and gone. He 
chuckled to himself as he at last landed his fish. 
It was a beauty — ^the finest he had ever seen. In 
the excitement of the moment it looked at least 


TRAILING A DESPERADO 


63 


half again as large as it really was. He slipped 
it into his bag, and was starting further down 
stream when suddenly he heard a voice. It was 
a wild, merry voice, that strongly reminded him 
of an intoxicated man he had often heard going 
past his house in Plainville. He stopped in his 
tracks and listened. Yes, the man was singing 
and talking to himself, and was coming straight 
toward him. He slipped into the bushes and 
waited almost breathlessly. He was able to dis- 
cern a narrow trail now that led up the opposite 
side of the canyon toward the pile of fresh rock. 
He realized suddenly that the rock was a new mine 
dump, or at least a prospect hole, and that the 
approaching man was probably the miner. Per- 
haps he was drunk, and that was why he sang. 
He had heard of such things. He was about to 
step out and say ‘‘Hello when suddenly the 
figure rounded the curve, and although the trail 
ran obliquely from where he was hidden, he had 
a fair view. A little gasp of surprise escaped 
him, in spite of himself, and he crouched down 
again as quickly as he had risen. 

The man was tall, stoop-shouldered, and had 
that peculiar droop to his head that he had noted 
yesterday when the outlaw rode past him on the 
trail. He could not see the face this time, but 
certainly it was the same shabby coat and old bat- 
tered Stetson hat. What a discovery! The 


64 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘wild life” had not gotten past him this time. 
But what was he to do about it? In a second the 
desperado would be out of sight and gone — per- 
haps forever. He must trail him if at all possi- 
ble. He wound up his line, hurried to the trail 
and noted with keen satisfaction the prints of 
heavy hob-nailed boots in the soft leaf mold. 
This would make the trailing easy, so on he went, 
his every sense alert and keen, his nerve cool and 
steady. 

At the top of the ridge the trail dropped down 
to a crude little cabin that was just below the 
prospect hole. He thought that he had found the 
hiding place of the most wanted criminal in the 
Front-range, and he was glad. Just ahead of 
him strode that tall, gaunt figure. There could 
be no doubting it now. It must be his man. Sud- 
denly his singing stopped, and he gazed stream- 
ward a second, and then, with a muttered oath, 
slipped from the trail to the water. He leaned 
away out and pulled something from the water. 
Harvey watched his every move. In a second he 
straightened up and held in his hand the Scout’s 
hat that had caught on a snag in the stream. He 
eyed it very carefully, turned it over and over, 
looked up stream a long time, listened very at- 
tentively for any strange sound, and then in 
silence went to his cabin. 

“The price of carelessness !” groaned the Scout. 


TEAILING A DESPEEADO 


65 


“I dare not stay, or the whole camp will he out 
looking for me, and long before I can get them 
word, unless I am badly mistaken, my desperado 
will be far, far away, for he knows now there is 
some one in the valley, and probably realizes it’s 
us, for he saw we boys with those hats on at the 
beaver dam.” He was frightened a bit, in spite 
of himself, then after a moment’s reflection he 
broke into a fast dog trot. He was a past master 
at the Scout pace and in a very few minutes was 
at the mouth of the canyon again. 

‘^You wouldn’t find that trail in a thousand 
years if you didn’t know it was here,” he said, 
half aloud, as he swung into the open valley and 
toward camp. He was certain he had been gone 
more than an hour, but because of the high horizon 
line he was unable to help himself out even by 
sun time. 

The men were all seated about the fire when 
he arrived and were just preparing to begin the 
evening meal which, fortunately, the other Scout 
had gone ahead and prepared, even to the dressing 
for the fish. He noted the scowl on the Super- 
visor’s face and promptly bethought himself of 
his two splendid fish. These he produced and ex- 
hibited with great pride. 

am so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he 
panted. ‘Ht wasn’t the fish that kept me late, 
but a great discovery. But I won’t tell you a 


66 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


thing until we eat. Vve been running far nearly 
an hour and my stomach thinks my throaUs cut. 
Here, Harry, dress this. I will clean this one, 
and they can bake while we eat.’’ 

‘‘Hurray for the Boy Scouts!” laughed Tomp- 
kins, good naturedly. “What did you discover, 
lad — the greatest gold mine in Colorado? Ha! 
ha! — a thousand other fellows have done that 
same trick in the last ten years.” 

“Yes, a gold mine, and more, too,” laughed 
back Harvey. “But let’s eat. I tell you I am 
starving. ’ ’ 

The Supervisor ate heartily, and complimented 
the cook over and over again. When half of the 
big trout was dished up to him, steaming and 
brown, with a crisp slice of bacon laid on top and 
a spoonful of savory dressing at its side, all his 
good nature returned and he laughed and chatted 
like a schoolboy. 

Harvey swallowed his last bite with a gulp, and 
then looked to see if all were ready to hear his 
momentous news. 

“I’ve found the desperado!” He said it very 
calmly. “He is a miner, and has a cabin as clev- 
erly hidden in the bushes as an oriole’s nest.” 

“The desperado!” cried all three men at once. 
“Here in this canyon! — Impossible!” 

“Yes, sir, I saw him myself. I trailed him, I 
heard him sing and talk to himself.” 


TEAILINa A DESPERADO 


67 


‘‘Sing and talk to himself!’’ cried the Super- 
visor, in great excitement. “He was singing, was 
he, — ^tall and hump-shouldered — High Tucker, I’ll 
be bound. And you saw him? Oh, I’m sorry. I 
was so in hopes the poor duffer would make his 
get-away. We did all we could to locate him, but 
I was glad we were not successful. There is a 
mistake somewhere in this deal, for I know High 
wouldn’t kill a man. Yet, you say you saw the 
same man that you saw in the valley yesterday! 
Evidence is evidence, however, and our duty comes 
first. We’ll go first thing in the morning. We 
can’t leave our camp to-night.” 

“I understand it all now, Mr. Hastings,” said 
Uncle Bob. “I got to thinking about it after that 
scare last night. It just must be High. He knew 
of my cabin, he knew there was a gun there, and 
shells. He rode the horse to the Upper Fork 
Trail until he was sure he wasn’t being followed, 
then he got off and started that pony home again. 
He knew we could trail the pony to the fork, and 
then if he went on foot we wouldn’t know which 
one of the four canyons he entered. The horse 
came straight home. ’ ’ 

The Supervisor listened intently, then, turning, 
sharply, he said, “Boy, did High see you!” 
Harvey’s heart sank, and also his head, for he 
must confess his carelessness again. 

“Not exactly, sir, but he knows there is some 


68 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


one in the valley. You see, my hat got knocked 
off while I was fishing and he found it in the 
stream. I was following him and I saw him pick 
it up. He laughed loudly and then went into his 
cabin. ^ ’ 

‘‘Laughed, did heU^ commented Tompkins, 
shrewdly. “Well, I guess you saw High all 
right, but I’ll wager my six-gun that if he knows 
you’re here you won’t see him again unless he 
takes a notion that you shall. He’s worse than 
any pine squirrel I ever saw when it comes to 
getting out of sight in a hurry. But I don’t un- 
derstand it at all. He was always such a law- 
abiding fellow. It couldn’t have been High, 
that’s all.” 

“Huh! If it hadn’t a ’been for a bit of care- 
lessness we could go and settle it to-morrow,” 
said the Supervisor. “If it was High, we must 
capture him.” 

Soon the conversation swung back to beetles and 
beetle trees again, and the boys learned many in- 
teresting facts before their eyes grew heavy with 
sleep. 

“Say, Harvey, do you really believe there are 
five hundred species of bugs that feed on the oaks 
alone and more than two hundred on pine and 
spruce? — Why, I never saw even one kind until 
to-day,” said Harry. 

Harvey made no reply. 


TRAILING A DESPERADO 


69 


“'V\Tiat^s the matter! — Aren’t mad, are 
you ? ’ ’ urged Harry. 

‘‘No, but you listen to me. Scout Carter. I’m 
going to catch that desperado and fool the Super- 
visor.” 

“Catch him how!” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t the slightest, most 
remote shadow of an idea. But that doesn’t make 
a bit of difference. Catch him I will, if that Su- 
pervisor will let me alone long enough. ’ ’ 

The embers were burning low. The curtain of 
dark spruce hid everything save the tiny circle of 
flickering light. 

“What’s that!” said Uncxe Bob, as he rose and 
yawned. “I thought I heard a fuss out among 
the horses.” 

“Nothing but that old mule biting Nellie,” said 
the Supervisor, drowsily. “Let’s crawl in.” 

They suited the action to the word and were 
soon busy unrobing — so busy, in fact, that they 
failed to see a tall, shambling, hump-shouldered 
man, with a sawed-off Winchester rifle in one 
hand, move back into the sheltering pines toward 
the picketed horses. 


CHAPTEE IV 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 

« ‘ "T^UT we must capture him by night, if it 
1—^ takes a thousand men!^’ roared the Su- 
A M pervisor. 

It was just daylight when Harry awoke from 
a very exciting dream only to find the Supervisor 
in one of his usual storms, and his apparent much- 
rufiled feeling so amused Harry that he hastily 
woke Harvey up to enjoy the fun, too. 

‘^Sounds like that mule, Nellie, kicked him 
where his breakfast ought to be, ’ ^ laughed Harry. 
But Harvey, after one good look out between the 
flaps, resolved that much more was the matter 
with the Supervisor this time than one of Nellie ^s 
gentle pokes. Hastily he began to dress. Just 
then Uncle Bob entered the tent, a scowl on his 
usually kindly face. Instantly both boys noted 
that he was only partly dressed and what clothes 
were on bore every appearance of having been 
slung on in a desperate hurry. 

^^What^s up. Uncle Bob?” asked Harvey, who 
had suddenly become eager and alert. 

‘^Something has got to be done, and that sud- 
70 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


71 


denly,’’ growled Uncle Bob. <‘We are getting 
careless, all of us. I didn’t suppose a half-dozen 
real bad men from the State Penitentiary could 
cause the Forest Service so much trouble as this 
one desperado is succeeding in causing.” 

‘‘What’s wrong now, Uncle?” asked both boys 
in a breath, but he ignored them and went on 
hastily as he pulled on his high boots and tucked 
in trouser legs. 

“I have never believed until now that our des- 
perado was old High Tucker, but it must be so. 
That’s all there is to it, after what you saw last 
night. Besides, no stranger would dare do a trick 
like that. Only a half-crazy man would come 
right into an armed camp like this one, manned by 
trained Eangers, and help himself to whatever he 
wanted.” 

“For the love of Pat, Uncle, tell us what has 
happened — ^what’s stolen now — when, where, how? 
Every time I go to sleep something happens any- 
way.” Both boys waited eagerly. 

“We’re cleaned out, lads,” said Mr. Standish 
dejectedly, “cleaned out in the night. The Su- 
pervisor’s pet mare is gone entirely — ^hide and 
hair. Every pack saddle in camp has disap- 
peared. Every hobble has been cut to pieces and 
the horses and mules were all loose in the timber. 
The Supervisor has been rounding them up for an 
hour and he is wild with anger. Apparently the 


72 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


thief intended to stampede the loose horses, and, 
failing, took the best there was and rode away. 
Imagine any one stampeding Nellie! Mr. Hast- 
ings wouldnT have taken a cool hundred for that 
saddle any day. It was a present from the head 
of the Forestry Department in Washington.’^ 

They were pretty well dressed by now, and 
emerged from the canvas walls just as Mr. Hast- 
ings rose from building the fire preparatory to 
getting breakfast started. On seeing the three 
watching him he was soon otf on another wild 
tirade. 

“They are all rascals, every mother’s son of 
them — cattle-men and sheep-men alike! For ten 
years I’ve lived among them and seen them fight 
and butcher each other, but they have always been 
scrupulously careful how they dealt with repre- 
sentatives of Uncle Sam. I’ve never expressed 
an opinion one way or the other, and have warned 
my Eangers not to make such a fatal mistake. 
I’ve dealt with each one of them honestly and 
given them justice at every turn. I tell you what 
makes me hottest is that after all I have done for 
old High Tucker he would treat me this way, even 
when he is in a tight place. I’ve known for sev- 
eral years that High had been a sheep-man once 
and that in all probability he got that broken 
crown in one of their awful feuds. I’ve been 
thinking about it a lot this morning, and, come to 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


73 


think of it, the Postmaster at Florence was an old 
cowboy — worked for Templeton on the big round- 
up for years. At last, I’m satisfied High is guilty, 
and believe me, boys, I’m going to round him up 
to-day. I haven’t ever meddled with their scraps, 
but they can’t tamper with Uucle Sam. High 
knows it, too. He had his chance to get out, and 
he knows that now it’s my turn.” 

‘‘What you going to do about it, sir?” drawled 
Tompkins, who had ridden up just in time to hear 
the last of his talk. 

“I’m going to High’s cabin anu arrest the crazy 
galoot in the name of the law,” snapped Hast- 
ings, “and if he isn’t at that shanty. I’ll wait till 
he does come. Here we are, two days from head- 
quarters and not a lick of harness to pull those 
beetle trees to.r'other with after they are cut ; and 
how in bl: :'es do yo^ liiink I’m going to get back 
home will hor.-;^ and saddle gone? I’m going 
over to th it nanty right after breakfast. Here, 
let’s have a hand, Scouts — a few flapjacks and a 
swallow of coffee.” 

Tompkins shrugged his shoulders decisively 
and spat meditatively into the fire. “Still I 
don’t believe it’s High, sir,” he said with convic- 
tion. “He may have a broken head all right, but 
there’s too much sense in it for a game like this. 
No, sir, we’re a-f olio wing the wrong trail. The 
blazes don’t read right. I don’t believe the sheep 


74 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


and cattle war has anything to do with the matter. 
I think it^s Luke’s boy, and his game was plunder 
pure and simple.” 

‘‘No, sir,” retorted the Supervisor. “We’ll 
have the whole thing out of High by noon, or my 
name’s Maud. 

“Bob better start to-day on those mother trees, 
cut them low and drag them pretty well together. 
The young stuff is pretty thick through here and 
let’s guard it all we can. Better cut everything 
that’s infected and make it into piles. It’s dead 
enough to burn easily. You men do the heavy 
cutting and let these Scouts saw the trunks into 
about three lengths. Perhaps you can rig a har- 
ness for old Nell and save yourself a lot of slav- 
ing, for she will pull anything you fasten her to. 
Don’t concern yourselves about me, for I’m going 
to stay over in the canyon until I get High, if it 
takes all winter. Better not fire your piles until 
I get back. ’ ’ And he was gone. 

“Well, I’ve got to have a couple more flapjacks, 
boys, if I’m going to saw logs to-day,” said Tomp- 
kins, and the Scouts returned to their cooking. 

“I don’t see,” said Harry, after a moment’s 
meditation, “why these sheep- and cattle-men 
hated each other so. Wasn’t there room for them 
both to feed their critters in these great valleys? 
I haven’t seen a sheep since we came and not more 
than a hundred cattle all put together.” 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


75 


‘‘Of course you haven’t seen ’em, my boy,” said 
Uncle Bob, who bad also helped himself to another 
cup of coffee and more flapjacks, “but if you had 
been here five years ago you would have seen 
plenty of them. You see all these valleys are a 
part of the U. S. Forest Eeserve now, but in those 
days they were not. Now, every ranchman must 
have a written permit and pay rent for pasture on 
the range, and sheep are almost entirely elimi- 
nated, because we have found out they are too 
destructive to the range. However, there are a 
few flocks farther east.” 

“I can’t for the life of me see,” said Harry, 
“how a few sheep could hurt the mountains when 
cattle don’t, or lions, or bears, or skunks. Won’t 
you please explain?” 

“Sure. Lions and skunks don’t graze, lads, to 
begin with, and, what’s more, they aren’t at all 
fond of young trees or tender shoots as a diet. 
It’s like this : the whole thing depends on the char- 
acter and age of the woods in question. A young 
forest is never a place for grazing animals, and 
where there are steep slopes the damage from 
grazing is often very large. There are three 
great dangers in allowing extensive grazing, 
either for sheep or cattle, in an evergreen forest. 
Odd as it may seem to you, it is a very fertile 
cause of forest fires. It was a common practice 
ten years ago for sheep- and cattle-men to set fire 


76 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


to the forest, so as to open up new grazing lands, 
or to at least burn the grass over in the Fall to 
insure an improved quality of feed for the early 
Spring. Such fires did not usually consume the 
large timber, but merely killed it and burned out 
entirely the seedling and saplings. Vast areas of 
the best sheep-grazing land in the West to-day 
was once covered with a majestic growth of tim- 
ber. 

‘‘Trampling is the second, and the third is 
browsing or feeding on the tender parts of young 
trees. Now you asked why the sheep-men so 
hated the cattle-men. It was simply because of 
the fact they both wanted pasture. It takes sun- 
light to make good grass, and in the dense wood 
there was not a very big supply of it; conse- 
quently good grassy meadows were scarce. Cat- 
tle graze without cropping the grass close enough 
to kill it, but sheep, feeding one behind the other 
as they do, crop the grass so close, and then tram- 
ple the roots with their small, sharp hoofs, so that 
nine times out of ten it dies altogether. In order 
to insure feed for their cattle, the cattle-men were, 
as they thought, compelled to exterminate the 
sheep, and vice versa. You can readily see how 
this struggle for possession gradually became a 
bloody war, can’t you?” 

“Yes, but I don’t see why one or the other of 
them did not go farther back into the hills and 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 77 

have the pasture all to themselves, without those 
awful fights. 

‘‘Because, my boy, such action on the part of 
either party meant removing their stock so far 
from its final market that it ate up all the profits 
to get it back to a shipping point. Be sure to get 
the Supervisor to tell you of some of his experi- 
ences with the sheep and cattle war one of these 
evenings. ’ ’ 

Soon they were out in the valley busy at their 
task of cutting the beetle trees. Slowly the piles 
increased until the woods just surrounding the 
little camp took on the appearance of a saw mill. 
The air was filled with the sweet, resinous odor of 
fresh pine chips and sawdust. At eleven the 
Scouts went back to camp and began to prepare 
dinner. 

“Better make a plenty,’^ called Uncie Bob from 
the clearing. “Hastings is liable to return by 
noon with High, and we will all have a life-sized 
appetite by that time.’’ 

“He’ll not get him. Bob,” said Tompkins, as 
he stopped to spit on his great calloused hands. 
“That is, if High is guilty. I, for one, don’t 
believe he is. But, mark me, if he is, Hastings 
or no other man alive will find old High Tucker 
until High chooses that they shall. It’s like going 
off to arrest a gray squirrel.” 

“You may be right, Tompkins, but I think High 


78 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


is the man. Who else knows this valley like this 
man must but High Tucker? No one else has 
ever lived in it but he.’’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, they have. Bob. How about Old Luke 
and his boys? The whole business looks a lot 
more like some of their doings to me than any of 
High’s. You know as well as I that Luke’s boy 
hates every Forester with a fervor. What’s 
more, if he’s in hiding in this valley he don’t want 
a band of men working in it. ’ ’ 

‘‘But Luke’s boys have been in jail now some 
days,” replied Mr. Standish. “I brought them 
back from my trip to their shanty. The Scouts 
were with me.” 

“Yes, but didn’t Mr. Hastings tell you what has 
developed out of that mess? One of those young 
men was not Old Luke’s boy at all, but Johnny 
Thorp. Ho you mind. Widow Thorp’s kid, the 
sheep rancher from Rock Creek Basin? Seemed 
he had been living with Luke and the boys, and 
the cow puncher over at Murphy’s picked him up 
without knowing what they had. No, Bob, there 
is one of Luke’s kids, the older one — ^must be all 
of twenty-seven anyway — at large yet, but all 
three down in the jail refuse to tell where. They 
swear they have not seen him for more than a 
year. He was always by far the worst one and 
would not stop at anything.” 

“Well, that may be true, Tompkins, but I’m 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


79 


inclined to think Hastings will bring his man 
hack with him to-day. He does not often make a 
mistake in his suppositions. ’ ^ 

‘‘Dinner! dinner!’’ called Harry. “Two cars 
to the rear. First, last, and only call!” 

“How old do you suppose those beetle trees we 
are cutting are, anyway?” asked Harvey at din- 
ner. 

“Well sir, hoys,” began Tompkins, “without 
actually counting them, I judge they are between 
one hundred* fifty and one hundred ninety years 
old.” 

“Without counting them — ^what do you mean?” 

Tompkins laughed aloud. It had not occurred 
to him that he was talking to green Eangers that 
knew little or nothing of the growth or develop- 
ment of trees. 

“You see, boys, trees grow just under the bark. 
That is, the cambium, or sap-bearing layer, is the 
outermost layer, not counting the bark, and each 
year a healthy growing tree adds a new layer or 
ring. The inner side of the cambium layer forms 
new wood and the outer side new bark. Thus the 
older the tree the thicker the bark and the more 
layers or rings there are. You have both noticed 
these rings in old stumps or the ends of heavy 
timbers, haven’t you? Each one of those rings 
represents a year’s growth, so by acurately count- 
ing them you can tell to a year just how old your 


80 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


tree is. You can count one after dinner and see 
for yourself.’’ 

‘^Gracious! — a hundred and fifty years of 
growth, and here we are chopping and burning 
them like saplings. ’ ’ 

‘H’ll tell you at the fire to-night,” said Uncle 
Bob, ‘‘something of the awful struggle that is al- 
ways going on in a growing forest for heat and 
light in order that enough food may be digested 
to make each tree grow. You have noticed how 
all the lower branches of every pine are dead, 
haven’t you?” 

Both boys nodded assent. 

“It’s because their needles could no longer get 
the necessary sunlight to change raw sap into food. 
It’s one of the results of crowding. Two trees of 
the same kind, seeds from the same tree, in fact, 
and planted in the same soil, may be vastly dif- 
ferent in size because of the conditions about it 
and the amount of light available. Millions of 
seedlings die annually in every forest in this strug- 
gle. Let’s get into that other grove this after- 
noon and get it cleaned out before the Supervisor 
gets back with High.” 

Early evening found all hands tired out with 
the arduous day’s labor. All the afternoon they 
had watched for the return of Mr. Hastings. It 
was twilight now, and yet he had not returned. 
Supper was prepared, kept warm until dusk, and 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


81 


then eaten without the Supervisor. He had told 
them he would wait for his man and they need 
have no worry about him. 

It had grown cloudy about four, and from xne 
looks of the western sky some sort of a change of 
weather was about due. A cold breeze sprang up 
at dusk, that made the cheery open fire an espe- 
cially inviting place ; consequently as soon as sup- 
per was over and the few dishes hastily washed, 
the group seated themselves about it with the tent 
between them and the wind. 

As the twilight settled in the valley the little 
camp looked odd enough, squatted as it was in the 
very midst of the fifteen piles of logs and top- 
pings. After considerable discussion, the remain- 
ing horses and mules were each one tied to a great 
spruce not far from the back of the tent. Guns 
were carefully inspected and all was put in readi- 
ness in case the mysterious visitor should return 
in the night. 

‘‘Be sure and don’t be foolish, boys,” Mr. 
Standish said to them, “and shoot at Mr. Hast- 
ings. He’s very liable to come blowing into camp 
in the night, and wouldn’t particularly enjoy hav- 
ing you use him as a target. ’ ’ 

“Tell us more about trees. Uncle,” urged 
Harry, as he settled himself for the evening. 
“Harvey and I want to pass olf our Honor Test 
for Forestry one of these days and everything 


82 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


we can learn now will help ns just that much/’ 

‘‘To-day you were talking about veterans and 
standards and poles, ’ ’ said Harvey. ‘ ‘ What ’s the 
difference anyway, or are they just names of your 
own?” 

“By no means. Foresters must have regular 
names for regular kinds, classes, and conditions of 
trees, or else their reports, for instance, would 
mean nothing to any one save themselves. There 
is a very simple standard of names, and it is one 
of the very first things that you boys should make 
yourselves entirely familiar with if you are to be 
real Foresters. 

“Any young trees that have not yet grown to 
be more than three feet high are seedlings. Trees 
from three to ten feet high are known as saplings, 
provided they aren’t bigger in diameter than four 
inches, then small poles until they are eight inches 
in diameter, and large poles until they are twelve. 
All trees that are from one to two feet in diameter 
are known as standards, which means trees in the 
prime, or ready to lumber. Finally, any that may 
exceed two feet are called veterans. As a usual 
thing veterans have attained their best growth and 
unless timbered in a reasonable time will begin to 
grow dozy and rotten at the heart. You see, boys, 
there is no life in any part of the tree but the sap 
wood. The heart wood is to all intents and pur- 
poses dead, and being dead rots the quicker. Vet- 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


83 


erans are mostly heart wood and the growth is 
very small. It is important to remember, too, 
that in making this classification you measure 
your tree not at the butt, as you would naturally 
suppose, but breast high.’’ 

As Mr. Standish had been talking the wind had 
been rising and it had grown quite chill, so much 
so that the comfort of lounging about the fire was 
gone, and at Tompkins’ suggestion they decided to 
crawl into bed. 

‘‘We must carefully extinguish every vestige 
of our fire,” said Uncle Bob, as he kicked the logs 
apart. “It’s a bad night for fire. I think it will 
probably shower heavily before morning, but we 
must not take any chances.” 

Several buckets of water were poured on the 
embers, one last look at the horses taken, the guns 
placed in a handy position, and soon all was quiet 
in the tent. Even the green Foresters were fast 
asleep — dead to the world after their strenuous 
day. 

The wind continued to rise until it was blowing 
in fierce little gusts and until every pine in the 
valley was sighing and creaking. Now and then 
the horses stirred restlessly and shivered. It was 
lightning in the south and the brilliant flashes 
every now and then terrorized Nellie, who pulled 
and tugged at her stout rope. 

A little before eleven Tompkins awoke with a 


84 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


start, hastily reached for his gun, and sat staring. 
He heard Nellie pulling at her rope and stamping 
the ground. He was so sleepy it took him a sec- 
ond to realize that it had been the lightning that 
had wakened him. He tossed back the cover of 
his tarpaulin and slipped out, gun in hand, to 
make sure that all was well. Nellie promptly 
brayed a friendly note and rubbed her big nose 
against him, as much as to suggest to sleepy 
Tompkins that he invite her into the tent for the 
rest of the night. He saw nothing out of the 
ordinary, but no doubt if he had not been so sleepy 
at that moment, or if the wind had not been blow- 
ing so hard, he would have heard a faint whinny 
in answer to Nellie’s plaintive note. In forty 
seconds, however, he was in bed again, sound 
asleep. 

It was past one. The wind had settled down to 
a steady gale and every star was blotted out in 
the inky blackness. Even the lightning had 
ceased to give its occasional white glare. Harry 
shivered. Some way his covers had gotten off 
his feet and he was cold. He tried to adjust them 
without getting up, but to no avail. Finally, com- 
pletely out of sorts and in desperation, he rose to 
a sitting position and arranged as best he could in 
the jet darkness the covers, then lay down again. 
He had just dozed off when Harvey gave the cover 
a yank, almost completely uncovering him. With 



Harry heard Bob begging and coaxing the horses, and 
went to help him. {Page 85.) 



WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


85 


an ejaculation he sat np. This time the tent was 
not nearly so dark. He wondered at it. As he 
sat it grew lighter and lighter, only it was a ruddy 
color. He rubbed his eyes as if to remove the illu- 
sion. Suddenly he forgot he was cold. He 
slipped to the heavy canvas flap and, lifting his 
lantern, peered out. The sight that met his eyes 
paralyzed him. He looked wildly about him as if 
for a way of escape. The piles of beetle trees 
were on fire ! Everywhere he looked the hungry 
yellow tongues were leaping before the wind. He 
went to the back of the tent, and there the same 
fierce flames were rushing skyward. He was ter- 
ror stricken. In three minutes their camp would 
be wiped out! 

He rushed madly into the tent, crying as he 
went and pulling bedclothes from the sleeping 
men. Pandemonium reigned. It was for Tomp- 
kins to speak first. 

‘^Grab your clothes and run for the stream. 
Here, take your gun and shoot — ’’ 

They could hear no more. He was gone, they 
after him as close as they could follow. Beach- 
ing the stream — shivering, clothes in one hand 
and gun in the other — ^they looked about blankly. 
Tompkins and Uncle Bob dropped their clothes 
and in an instant were returning. Harry heard 
Bob begging and coaxing the horses, and went to 
help him. In a few seconds the animals were 


86 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


safe, all save Nell, who stoutly refused to budge. 
Oh, how she brayed ! They had never heard such 
an awful noise before. In a moment Tompkins 
returned with what was left of the smoking tent. 

saved enough of it for a shelter, but it was a 
close call. I singed my hair badly. Bob, we must 
make one trip for a part of the food. Follow me, 
gather what you can and get back. I think it will 
be five minutes before the big pile just back of the 
grub tent gets fully afire. The grub tent is gone. 
It was taken down, or blew away; I don’t know 
which. ’ ’ 

Bob Standish followed, and so did the Scouts. 
Was there ever such a procession of oddly draped 
figures before ! Quickly they gathered up all the 
grub they could manage and retreated. Tomp- 
kins rescued the axes and shovel and the cross-cut 
saw. When they returned again for another load 
it was too late. The fire was into the front of the 
pile now and the heat was too intense to get near. 

‘^That fiendish scoundrel is watching the entire 
performance, ’ ’ said Bob dryly. ^ H ’d enjoy shoot- 
ing him full of holes just at this moment. Those 
piles were carefully fired by an expert — all lighted 
on the windward side and the front ones first. He 
deliberately planned to burn us alive, that’s evi- 
dent. We are lucky dogs that his scheme didn’t 
work. ’ ’ 

‘^What are you going to do about it!” asked 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


87 


Harry through teeth chattering with excitement. 

Uncle Bob looked wildly about him. ^‘Boys, 
nothing under heaven but a terrific rain can save 
this entire valley. Oh, if it would only rain!^’ 
He almost sobbed it out. 

‘‘That’s a pretty fine way to exterminate beetle 
trees,” said Tompkins, sarcastically. “We are 
helpless. The wind is due east. That means 
straight down the valley — every beetle tree in the 
canyon.” He laughed derisively, then turned 
away. 

“If Hastings were here he would be wild.” 

“It will be very difficult to make him believe we 
could not have helped it. He will be cock sure 
we left careless fire.” 

“But if we had, it couldn’t have lighted fifteen 
great piles of slash in a minute ’s time. ’ ’ 

“Who did light it?” 

“Old High,” said Bob, doggedly. 

“No,” said Tompkins. “I tell you, no. It 
isn’t like him. He never did it. It was our des- 
perado, Luke’s boy. He’s done such tricks be- 
fore, and he’ll keep on till we leave or till we catch 
him. What we need is a posse of men.” 

They stood in silence, gazing at the sea of roar- 
ing flame. From somewhere down the valley Nell 
brayed. 

“I feel rain,” said Harvey. 

“I smell it,” said Tompkins. 


88 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


Then it came. The ways of nature in the wild 
places are wild. Never before had they braved 
such a torrent of water from the sky as fell in the 
next few moments. It fairly dashed down, and 
clouds of smoke and steam rose from the valley 
in response. 

They had gotten into what few clothes they had 
saved, and could do nothing more but wait as best 
they could for the coming dawn. It seemed to 
them it would never come, but when it did it was 
welcomed with a shout. Tompkins raked a few 
embers apart and with his ax cut dry limbs from 
across the stream, and soon things were hung 
about before the fire to dry and plans were being 
made for the coming day. 

‘Ht^s no wonder Hastings didn’t come home,” 
said Mr. Standish. ‘‘His man was here. If he 
had only known he might have saved himself the 
trip. Well, every dog has his day, and High will 
have his. When we catch him, he should be shot 
without much delay.” 

At five o’clock there was a familiar “Hallo!” 
and all looking up saw the Supervisor crossing 
the ridge — ^but alone. 

“What in thunder!” he gasped, as he leaned 
from his steaming horse. “I thought you had set 
the world on fire from the smoke that was rising. 
I told you not to fire till I returned. ’ ’ 

“High’s work,” said Uncle Bob, tersely. 


WIPED OUT AT NIGHT 


89 


Don’t believe it,” snapped Tompkins. 
‘‘There’s no evidence to that effect.” 

“High hasn’t been to the cabin for at least two 
days. Only signs of life over there is the pelt of 
a good-sized grizzly hung out to dry,” said Hast- 
ings, thoughtfully, and then continued with a 
growl : 

“My friends, it’s High Tucker, dead or alive, 
before we do another thing. You men have had a 
narrow escape from burning to death, that’s evi- 
dent. High evidently is determined to get us out 
of the valley by hook or crook. I had half a no- 
tion to force the mine and see what he’s doing up 
there, but I didn’t. We’ll stay, however, until he 
does come back. I’ll go back to the shanty to-day. 
He’ll be sneaking in for provisions soon.” 

“We’ll do some real camping if we stay long 
with what’s left,” remarked Tompkins dryly, 
“and anyway, sir, I don’t believe it’s High. I tell 
you what we need is a posse to scour this valley. 
I ’d bet my head we would round up Luke ’s miss- 
ing boy. The man that did this trick is des- 
perate.” 

“But didn’t the Scout see High here in the 
valley?” stormed the Supervisor. “What more 
evidence do you want? No one has seen Luke’s 
boy for two years. Evidence ! — ^what do you call 
evidence?” 

“But I know High better than any of you,” re- 


90 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 

torted Tompkins. ‘‘I tell you we are on the 
wrong trail.’’ 

‘H’ll bring him in this time, sure,” said the Su- 
pervisor. ‘‘Let’s get a camp set up and then I’m 
off.” 


CHAPTEE V 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 

^ ^ ^ UILD a camp out of that pile of stuff ! ’ ^ 

1—^ said Harry, disgustedly. ‘‘Why, Dan- 
iel Boone himself couldn’t do it.” 

“I don’t believe he could either,” said Harvey. 
“It’s us for home, for all that I can see.” 

“Home!” snorted Mr. Hastings in disgust. 
“Not a step until High Tucker goes with us, dead 
or alive. I have had enough of this raiding busi- 
ness, I tell you that, and we may just as well set- 
tle this thing now as some other time. Why, there 
is enough stuff there to build two camps and have 
some left. Tompkins, let’s move over to the shel- 
ter of that second growth and rig a real For- 
ester’s shelter. I’m sure there is enough canvas 
in that old tent yet for that. Show these Scouts 
a few things about real camping. They have too 
much book nonsense in their heads. I told you 
this Scouting was all monkey business, anyway. 
These boys would starve to death in a grocery 
store unless in their guide book it told how to 
eat!” 

“Seems to me that what we want first,” 
drawled Uncle Bob, who had had a gloomy dispo- 

91 


92 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


sition ever since his rude awakening in the night, 
‘4s a bit of a fire — one we can manage and con- 
trol,’’ he added with a little chuckle. “Every liv- 
ing last stitch of duds any of us has, including 
blankets and tarps, are sopping wet. From the 
looks of things it’s going to be a gray day, and we 
must have rest to-night. I feel just like I had 
celebrated my hundredth birthday. ’ ’ 

Tompkins grinned sheepishly. “I’ve just been 
waiting for you to get to that very point, Bob,” 
he said. “I’ll bet my old wet socks that there 
isn’t a dry match nearer than the sawmill, either.” 

“No dry matches ! ’ ’ cried Mr. Hastings. ‘ ‘ Why 
not, please tell me! It didn’t rain so hard that 
it wet right through the tin match can, did it!” 

Harvey stood with his mouth wide open. He 
was caught again. When, oh, when, would he ever 
learn to be more careful! He had attempted to 
rescue the match can with an armful of other 
things from the commissary tent, but the can was 
hot and he had suddenly dropped it ; the lid had, 
of course, come off and the matches had spilled 
on the ground and were burned. He had hastily 
picked up a big handful of them and had laid them 
on the lard can. Then the rain had come, and 
later, when he had found them they had rolled oif 
in the wet needles. He was just about to tell 
what had happened when Tompkins spoke up. 

“They all burned up with the grub tent, sir. I 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 93 

had a few in my trousers pocket, but they are all 
ruined with rain.’’ 

The Supervisor had been searching his pockets 
the while, and getting more angry as the truth of 
the thing came home to him — ^not a match in camp ! 

‘‘It was my fault, sir,” said Harry, straightfor- 
wardly. “I was careless, but I didn’t know it 
was going to rain, and we were in such a hurry I 
hardly had time to think.” 

Tompkins ’ face clouded a bit at this confession, 
for he had thought to save the boy a scolding by 
his remarks; but inwardly he rejoiced in the 
manly courage that he knew it took to acknowl- 
edge his error. 

“But,” continued Harry, “if you will give me 
a chance, I believe I can make a fire, only it will 
take time. ’ ’ 

The Supervisor looked at him incredulously. 
Was the boy crazy? — Make fire! Who ever 
thought of such a thing, and not a match in camp ! 

“Humph! Are you a patent cigar lighter, or 
are you just giving me some more of that Scout 
stuff?” 

“No, sir, I can produce fire by friction, but it 
will take me a little time to find the proper mate- 
rial. Let the rest start on the new camp and I 
will begin at once to look for what I need.” 

“By friction, eh? — Say, what do you think this 
camp is — a chapter from ‘Arabian Nights’ or 


94 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


‘Alice in Wonderland’ ? Set up a camp ! No, sir, 
what’s the use until we are sure of a fire. Tomp- 
kins, bring me your mare, won’t you, and I’ll ride 
over to Duffield’s for a fire. Building fires with 
friction! — ^if you were an Indian lad you might 
do it, but a civilized city chap and friction fire — ” 
Harvey spoke up. He could hold his peace no 
longer. 

“But, sir, there are many ways to make fire 
without matches, even if you don’t believe in fric- 
tion. These hills must be full of obsidian and we 
have an ax. I never heard of a good woodsman 
that couldn’t light a fire with a fiint and steel. 
Daniel Boone could, and Kit Carson, and — ” 
“Robinson Crusoe and Jesse James !” cried the 
Supervisor, in disgust. “You want to turn the 
Forest Service into a Scout Patrol. Tompkins, 
bring me your horse, will you, and I’ll be off. I 
can go and come in three hours. Go ahead on a 
new shelter as best you can.” 

Tompkins ventured one more suggestion in 
hopes of saving the day for the Scouts’ sake. 

“What if Old High should put in his appear- 
ance while you are gone?” There was just a 
little scorn in his voice. “Think we better find 
our man first, and then talk of camps and fires.” 

“But, sir, if you don’t believe that we can build 
a fire by friction or with a flint and steel, I’m 
sure I can build one with your gun. Give us a 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 95 

chance anyway, for we have done nothing but talk 
so far/’ 

‘H’m from Missouri, boys,” said the Super- 
visor, in a softer tone. ‘‘But I like fair play, so 
go ahead with your obsidian and ax and friction, 
or however you do it, and let’s get a flame. It’s 
breakfast time. ’ ’ 

In a flash the boys were off into the timber, 
each hunting suitable material. In ten minutes 
they were back, with several dead limbs of various 
sizes that had been chosen each for a special pur- 
pose. 

“Now, Uncle Bob,” spoke up Harry, “you take 
that piece of cedar, dress off all the outside that 
is at all damp, and then scrape me some very fine 
dust — see, like this: Just as fine as hairs. Mr. 
Tompkins, you take that large pine limb that was 
in the fire last night and dress me a bit of plank 
out of it a couple of inches wide and half as thick. 
Eemove every particle that is damp. ’ ’ 

Then, selecting a round, smooth rock with a bit 
of a cavity in it, he went to a large clump of 
mountain birch that had escaped actual burning 
but that had been dried some by the dense clouds 
of hot smoke, and selected a limb three feet long 
that had a natural bow in it. Then with the ream 
on the back of his Scout pocket-knife he deftly 
bored two holes, one at each of the extreme ends 
of the bow. Next he removed the stout whang 


96 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


leather lace from his own high boot and quickly 
tied the one end through the hole at the end of the 
birch bow, then running the other end through the 
second hole, he pulled it tight and fastened it. 
Next he took the bit of plank Tompkins had 
dressed out for him and cut a narrow notch well 
into one edge. 

‘‘Are you through with the drill yet. Uncle 
Bob? There, that^s fine. Just let me finish it. 
Thank you! Harvey, you get a bit of dry bark 
from the under side of one of those old spruces, 
while I get things ready. Now, Tompkins, if you 
will get me an armful of dry twigs from those 
standing trees, we will soon be ready. We will 
move over to the shelter of that big rock,’’ said 
Harry, confidently. “A little draft plays hob 
with a friction fire. If we had Mr. Tate here 
we’d get a flange in about a jiffy. He is sure a 
dandy at all sorts of woodcraft.” 

As he talked he had been putting a round, 
smooth end on one end of the cedar stick and a 
rather dome-shaped end on the other. These he 
polished reasonably smooth by rubbing them on 
the big rock. Next he shaped the slender arrow 
into an octagon so that the bow string would hold 
it the tighter and keep it from slipping. 

“Now I have got to have a piece of dry cloth, 
and I’ll be ready.” 

“Dry cloth!” laughed Uncle Bob and Tomp- 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 97 

kins together. ^‘You stand big chances of find- 
ing dry cloth here, my lad.’^ 

‘‘Why didn’t yon ask for a red hot coal, and be 
done with it?” laughed the Supervisor. 

Harry’s face fell. He was perplexed indeed. 
Was it another failure ? But the other Scout came 
to his rescue. 

“I’ve got a dry bandage and some cotton in 
my first aid kit. Hurrah, just the thing!” And 
he was after them. 

The bandage was spread on the ground, the 
pitch plank placed on top with the notch just over 
the bit of cloth. The driU was forced into the 
bow string so that a rapid sawing motion of the 
bow would cause it to twirl very rapidly when 
held in place at the top by the smooth rock which 
Harry held firmly in his left hand. The other 
end of the drill rested in the notch. Harry was on 
his right knee so that his knee held one end of 
the plank in place, the other end he held with his 
right foot. 

The cotton and small shavings were placed 
about the notch and the game began, every one of 
the little party bending over and gazing eagerly 
at the drill point and shivering every now and 
then in spite of themselves because of the cold, 
wet clothes. 

Harry began the rapid motion with the bow. 
The drill burred in response. He then gradually 


98 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


pressed tighter on the stone socket and thus in- 
creased the friction. 

One minute, a minute and a half, and then a 
shout of joy, for from the pan was slowly rising 
tiny tails of pitchy smoke. He worked all the 
harder, gazing earnestly at the pan for a spark, 
but none came. The exertion was tremendous, 
and finally the Scout was compelled to stop to 
rest and regain his wind. 

‘‘To much showerings,” said Harvey, and they 
tried again but to no avail. They could not se- 
cure a spark. Harvey tried his hand, Tompkins 
tried his hand, and finally as a last resort Uncle 
Bob, after a careful readjustment of all the parts, 
tried his luck, but every effort was a failure. 

They stood looking down at the fire drill, but 
no one spoke a word. The Supervisor opened his 
mouth as if to make some comment, but thought 
better of it and abruptly turning walked away. 

Harvey asked for Uncle Bob’s revolver. Mr. 
Standish was curious to see what the lad had in 
mind, so handed it over without a question. The 
Scout removed a cartridge and examined it care- 
fully. Satisfied, he took his Scout knife, cut away 
the lead and stuffed into its place a scrap of dry 
bandage, then replaced the shell into the gun. 

“Now you shoot it in the air for me and let me 
catch the rag. I believe the powder will set it 
afire and by careful blowing I can make a flame.” 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTURE 


99 


The idea pleased Uncle Bob and he did as he 
was ordered. 

know what^s the matter here/’ cried Harry. 
‘Ht’s that pitch plank. It gnms up the drill and 
won’t let the grindings out.” In a second he was 
dressing a new plank from a bit of fir that was 
entirely void of pitch. He re-dressed the end of 
the arrow and arranged things again ready for 
another try. 

Bang! went the gun. He turned to see the re- 
sult, but to Harvey’s consternation the bit of rag 
caught on a dead limb on its way down. 

‘‘It’s smoking, it’s smoking,” cried Harvey, 
and he set to fixing a second shell. 

Harry knelt over his drill and was just begin- 
ning to work it when a thought came to him. 
“It’s a race now to see who will get fire first.” 

“Tompkins, give me one of those shells too.” 
Quickly he pryed out the lead, picked out the wad- 
ding, and poured the little heap of powder among 
the shavings at the base of the drill. Zip! zip! 
went the drill. Smoke was rising freely now. 

Bang! went the gun a second time, but Harry 
could not look to see the result. A minute lapsed, 
then he heard Harvey blowing. Suddenly he, too, 
dropped his drill, gathered up the bit of cotton 
bandage so as to make a crude bag, quickly cov- 
ered it with the palms of his hands and began to 
blow also. 


100 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


The men had caught the spirit of the game now, 
and even the Supervisor was interested. There 
was a little chuckle, and then a shout as both 
pieces of rag burst into flame. Both boys hastily 
knelt to the pile of twigs. 

call that a draw,^’ exclaimed the Supervisor, 
as the chips caught and the little yellow flames 
leaped into the air. ‘‘And Vll be shot at sunrise 
if you Scouts aren’t the most resourceful boys in 
the world. Now, Tompkins, it’s up to us to make 
good on that shelter, and we are going to do it 
before breakfast. We’ll all have to turn Zoroas- 
terians and worship this little fire and never let 
it go out, ’cause we just naturally might not be so 
lucky again.” 

Instantly the life surged back into the wet, be- 
draggled Foresters and in less than no time work 
was under way on the new shanty* A location was 
chosen just in front of a huge bowlder. Aspen 
poles were cut for uprights and set into the ground 
so as to form a box-like inclosure, the back poles 
just a foot and a half shorter than the front ones. 
A heavier timber was lashed to a near-by pine and 
then extended to the farther upright crosswise, 
where it too was lashed fast. Poles to support 
a roof were then lashed on top and the tent cut 
and fastened about the frame, leaving the front 
face toward the rock open. 

Tompkins’ tarpaulin was spread over the top to 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 


101 


form a roof. Some slabs of flat stone were set np 
for bunk legs and stout timbers placed on them to 
hold the smaller cross poles that were to serve as 
springs and a support for the mattress of green 
boughs. As soon as these were placed, the boys 
were dispatched to cut quantities of fresh boughs 
from a grove of neighboring silver spruce. Then 
just before dinner a shelf made from an old drift 
wood plank was added and the remains of the food 
moved into the new shelter. The fire was trans- 
ferred and spread out so as to dry the bed-clothes, 
and all was in readiness again for a few more days 
of labor on the forest. 

“Well, I sure take off my hat to you, Tomp- 
kins,’^ said Harry, proudly, as he surveyed the 
cozy little shelter. “That’s better than any tent 
I ever saw. The next thing now that desperado 
will be wanting is to move in. He could camp 
here all winter with a good deal of comfort.” 

“That desperado is going to camp in jail all 
winter, boys,” said the Supervisor. “Let’s get 
a bit of lunch, and while you rest and keep the 
fire I’m going to send Tompkins one way and I’m 
going the other, and we will pay High another 
visit. We have got to get him soon. If he isn’t 
at the cabin we must form a miniature drag net 
and scour these hills for him. I won’t go back 
without him.” 

After dinner the two set off afoot while the 


102 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


Scouts and Uncle Bob settled down by the fire, 
for the chill was still in the air and the sky 
had every appearance of containing a first 
snow. 

‘‘What is this Honor Badge of Forestry I have 
heard you make reference to so often, lads ? ^ ^ asked 
Mr. Standish. 

“Well, it^s just this. Uncle Bob,’’ said Harry. 
“To know twenty-five trees in leaf and be able to 
identify them in the woods ; to be able to tell fif- 
teen of them in winter when the leaves have fallen, 
then know twelve kinds of shrubs, and collect ten 
samples of different kinds of wood and tell what 
uses each kind are put to. ’ ’ 

“Yes, we have to be able to estimate the amount 
of board feet of lumber in five trees picked at 
random, and must know about transplanting, 
grafting, spraying, and protecting trees from all 
sorts of ravages,” said Harvey. 

“Is that all of it now?” 

“Oh, no,” continued Harry. “We must thor- 
oughly understand the three great causes of forest 
fires and how to fight each kind.” 

“Oh, you do, eh?” said Uncle Bob. “Well, 
that’s all worth while information and we must get 
busy at once. But there is a great deal of other 
information that I want you to have also. There 
is a big lumber sale over in Salt Basin to be 
made very soon and I’ll take you over there with 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 


103 


me if I can. We will have to cruise all that valley 
before we mark it for cutting. The saw mill have 
bought a fresh tract and want to get ready to 
haul it after snow flies, and if we don’t cruise it 
before we make the sale it leaves such an oppor- 
tunity for the mill to cut thousands of unmarked 
logs.” 

‘‘What do you mean by ‘cruising’ it, Uncle 
Bob!” 

“Simply this: Two foresters go through and 
check the number and kinds of standards and 
veterans that there are, estimating as they go how 
many board feet each will make, or, to be more ac- 
curate, to estimate how many regular sixteen- 
foot logs each will make, and their diameter, then 
the whole is estimated into board feet. 

“You see, only standards, veterans, spike tops 
and dead logs are sold to these mills, and careful 
check must be kept on them, unless the sale is 
big enough to warrant having one of the Govern- 
ment Foresters always on the job. The mill men 
hate the spike tops. They usually make only sec- 
ond-class lumber, and the dead trees are, nine 
chances to ten, dozy. Because they are compelled 
to take the good with the bad they often feel war- 
ranted in taking a few thousand logs extra to make 
up for the trouble. I know of one sale where the 
mill owner deliberately stole two million board 
feet of unmarked logs in one valley. Fortunately, 


104 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


our cruise books were complete and be had to pay 
or get off the forest/’ 

‘HVe been wet so long I’ve got to have some 
exercise or I’m going to be all stiff,” announced 
Harvey. ‘‘I’m going to take a climb.” 

“Let’s go up that mountain yonder,” said 
Harry. “Perhaps we might stumble onto some 
trace of our desperado. Perhaps he is up there in 
that heavy belt of timber at this very moment, 
watching us build our camp. ’ ’ 

“Come on then, let’s get started. We’ll be 
back before supper, Uncle Bob.” 

An hour’s climbing brought them out on the 
crest of the mountain and presented them a won- 
derful view of high cliffs and deep valleys, of 
great stretches of magnificent timber, and far to 
the north, at the end of an old road, rose Pike’s 
Peak, her crest already snow-capped. They 
thought they had never before seen anything half 
so majestic or wonderful. 

They sat a long time gazing down into the valley 
when suddenly Harry’s eye caught sight of some- 
thing moving. He watched it closely. The lights 
and shadows were so strong that it was a bit hard 
to see details clearly. 

“It’s a man!” cried Harvey, in excitement — 
“a humped-over, shambling sort of a man. And 
see, he is carrying a heavy pack.” 

‘ ‘ Tall and — It ’s High, I ’ll bet my hat ! ’ ’ 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 


105 


‘‘High, with his pack, going away,” sighed 
Harry. “The Supervisor and Tompkins missed 
him. What shall we do? Shall we shoot?” 

“That would be folly. It may not be High at 
all, and anyway, you could never shoot accurately 
at that distance.” 

“But suppose it is High! — He has slipped 
through our fingers enough times now. I think 
we should at least tell Uncle Bob. You know he 
said last night that no other man lived in this 
valley but High Tucker. ’ ’ 

“Let’s take a short cut straight down through 
that heavy aspen grove. It will save time. ’ ’ 

They were running now, and soon found them- 
selves in the dense aspen thicket; but on they 
went at good Scout pace, for they had a message 
that must be delivered at once. 

“Stop!” called Harry, who had dropped a bit 
behind. “What are these?” 

Harvey retraced his steps and there in the soft 
mud of the grove were fresh bear tracks. 

‘ ‘ A mother and two cubs, ’ ’ said Harvey. 

“By the great horned spoon!” ejaculated 
Harry. “Mr. Hastings saw a grizzly skin 
stretched at Old High’s cabin, and it was fresh. 
Those tracks are at least four days’ old. I can 
tell by the water that’s in them. Two cubs! 
They must be young from the looks of the prints. ’ ’ 
“Let’s see where the trail leads us.” 


106 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


They were off again following the plain trail in 
and out through the park toward the stream. 

^^By jove/^ exclaimed Harry, ‘‘look at this!^’ 

There, nearly six feet from the ground, on the 
bark of a shaggy old Engelmann, was a bunch of 
gray-brown hair — the unmistakable calling card 
of a Rocky Mountain grizzly. “She scratched 
right here,’’ said Harry. “Old High shot her in 
this park. I wonder where those cubs are now.” 

They hurried on and soon came to the freshly 
stripped carcass where it had been originally 
skinned and covered with brush. The coyotes had 
about devoured all that had been left behind. 
Not a hundred feet farther on they suddenly came 
to a crude camp. Evidently it had not been occu- 
pied since the rain, but by the side of the ash heap 
lay a half dozen empty tin cans that were new. 
Hidden in the brush at one side were a half dozen 
cans of beans from the Forester’s grub tent. 

The boys looked at each other in amazement. 

“Our desperado has left for good,” said 
Harvey. 

“That was him on the old tie road. He was 
carrying what provisions he could. He is gone.” 

“Let’s hurry. Perhaps the Supervisor may be 
back and would want to know about this at once.” 

They were off again through the long aisles of 
tall white aspens toward camp. They were just 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 107 

emerging from the park when something scam- 
pered through the timber ahead of them. 

‘‘It’s the cubs!” cried Harry, and he was oif 
in quick pursuit. Although both hoys followed 
hard they could get hut an occasional glimpse of 
the two retreating bears. 

“We couldn’t take them if we did get near 
them,” panted Harvey. “Let’s return to camp. 
Desperadoes are more excitement, anyway. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I know they are,” panted the other Scout, 
“but I’d like to have a hear cub just the same. 
We’ll bring Uncle Boh back with us at once.” 

In fifteen minutes more the new Foresters’ 
shanty came into view, and as soon as the boys 
could get their wind they told of all they had seen 
and heard. Mr. Standish was greatly interested, 
but after a careful conference it was decided it 
was best not to act until Mr. Hastings and Tomp- 
kins should return. It would not, even in the 
light of the facts known, have been good policy to 
leave the camp alone. 

“Let’s take our rifles then and go back after 
those cubs. We have time,” said Harvey. 

It was agreed, and an hour later they were 
back to the old carcass again. Evidently the cubs 
realized in some vague way that there was a con- 
nection between them and the pile of half-exposed 
bones, for, sure enough, they had hardly entered 


108 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


the clearing when Harry sighted one, then the 
other, of the cubs nosing in the brush pile where 
the carcass lay. 

They sneaked as close as they dared. The 
wind favored them, a great pine stump concealed 
them, and luck smiled upon them. They decided 
which would take which, then deliberately aimed 
and shot. Immediately they rushed forward to 
see what had been the result. One cub lay dead, 
but the other was gone. They listened and heard 
him tearing through the timber. 

‘H was dead sure of my shot,’’ said Harry. 

“So was I,” said Harvey. 

“Whose bear is it?” laughed Harry, excitedly. 

“It’s ours, of course,” cried Harvey. “We 
killed a bear.” 

“And wounded another, I’m sure. Come on, 
let’s follow.” 

They did, and after a half hour of chasing and 
dodging they cornered the half-starved, limping 
little beggar in a pocket of fallen timber, and after 
a desperate tussle, in which both Scouts got thor- 
oughly “chewed” to say nothing of the dozens of 
long scratches, the little savage was subdued, 
tangled up in Harry’s Scout shirt and tied with 
the aid of Harvey’s belt and one boot string. 
Then started the triumphant march back to camp. 
Never before had two Scouts been so proud of 
their valor. 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 


109 


The Supervisor and Tompkins were both back, 
but were very glum. Mr. Standish told them care- 
fully of what the Scouts had seen. They were 
puzzled, and Mr. Standish, at least, seemed angry. 
Beyond a doubt High had been back to the cabin 
during his absence, for the door was securely 
bolted and the windows latched from the inside. 

The dead bear was skinned and the soft, young 
hide stretched to dry, while ‘‘Courageous^’ (for 
so they had already named the wounded cub, on 
account of his plucky tight for freedom) was fed 
and bandaged up. The bullet had gone through 
the fleshy part of the left fore leg, but fortunately 
no bones were broken, and with a few first aid 
measures “Courageous” was soon fast asleep oh 
a blanket in the corner of the shelter. 

Supper was eaten in silence except for an oc- 
casional question asked by the Supervisor con- 
cerning the road and the stranger. The dishes 
were done up by the boys, and the fire replenished, 
and then the boys were asked to again tell in de- 
tail just what they had seen. All listened closely. 
When they were through, Tompkins asked a ques- 
tion that set them all to thinking. 

“If it was High’s camp the boys found, why 
didn’t he take that canned goods to his cabin, in- 
stead of leaving it in the brush? He wouldn’t 
have to sleep in a temporary shelter, with no bed- 
ding, cold nights like these with his cabin not a 


110 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


mile away. It don’t sound probable to me at all. 
I tell you, we must explain High’s disappearance 
some other way — may have been murdered by this 
desperado, for all we know.” 

The Supervisor thought hard a moment, then 
he asked back: 

‘^But how do you account for that bear’s hide 
stretched on the end of High’s cabin and the car- 
cass beyond a doubt at this other camp? — No, sir, 
he camped there, so as not to get caught at home. 
As for the bear skin, I can’t answer. But I tell 
you High Tucker is our man ! ’ ’ 

What’s that?” asked Uncle Bob, rising and 
listening intently. 

‘H didn’t hear anything,” said Mr. Hastings. 

They all listened. Soon it came again, and it 
was a strange sound for that part of the world — 
the heart of a great forest. 

‘‘Sounds all m the world like an automobile,” 
said Mr. Standish, “but there are no autos in 
these hills, least I have never seen one. ’ ’ 

“It’s a gas engine, that’s sure,” said Tomp- 
kins, “but just where I can’t determine. You 
know these pine trees act exactly like a wire for 
carrying sound. The wind is right and it might 
come from as far over as the Old Seven Lakes 
road.” 

“They do go in there in autos occasionally to 
fish,” added Hastings. “That must be it. Won- 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 111 

derful how we can hear it away over here, 
isnT itr» 

on the old tie road, Mr. Hastings, ven- 
tured Harry. 

‘Ht is a pretty good road, I think,'' added 
Harvey. ‘‘Why couldn't an auto come in on it 
if it wanted to as well as on any other mountain 
road?" 

“For what ? ' ' asked the Supervisor. 

“For what, indeed?" they all asked. 

“Why that roads ends at the head of the 
valley," continued the Supervisor. 

“Just over the ridge from High's shanty," 
added Tompkins. 

“Oh, it can't he on that road!" said the Super- 
visor, as if to close the matter. 

“We'll go see," said Harry. “We can climb 
to the shoulder in twenty minutes and can see the 
road in spots clear to the end. ' ' 

As they climbed, the burr of an engine toiling 
upward against a heavy grade was unmistakably 
borne to them on the breeze. Their minds were 
full of all sorts of strange questioning. The last 
twenty-four hours had brought them many adven- 
tures, and they were enjoying them as only live, 
red-blooded boys can. J ust now their minds were 
full of speculation. 

They reached the crest and sat down to watch, 
straining every nerve to hear. They had not long 


112 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


to wait, for soon they distinctly heard the chang- 
ing of gears and whiz of the motor. Then they 
saw the lights, like silvery darts, flashing here 
and there as the road curved. There could be 
no mistaking it now — there was an auto on the old 
tie road coming up the valley evidently with great 
effort. 

Should they hasten back at once? — No, better 
wait and see just what was its destination. What 
was the relation of the auto to the lone, humped- 
over traveler going in the opposite direction a few 
hours ago — that was what they were both wonder- 
ing. 

Nearer and nearer it came, harder and harder it 
toiled in its effort to make the rough grade. 

“lUs very dangerous to do that in the dark,’’ 
breathed Harry. 

‘‘What if the brakes should fail?” asked 
Harvey. 

‘ ‘ They knew all that, and came anyway for some 
definite purpose. I wonder what it could be. 
Why couldn’t they have come in the daylight?” 

“Look!” 

Both boys were standing now, craning their 
necks. The lights were no longer lighting the 
road but were elevated at a sharp pitch into the 
sky. 

“They are stuck!” 


A MIDNIGHT CAPTUEE 


113 


Just then the lights went out for a second. 
Finally they were lighted again, and the engine 
was started once more. Then the lights receded, 
as if hacking down a hill to try again. There was 
the sharp squeak of brakes, and then slowly the 
car came forward again. This time the lights 
pointed skyward more than the time before, but 
only for an instant; then for a fleeting second 
they flashed in several impossible directions, 
finally lighting up the valley to its very depths, 
every limb and twig set out against the black. 

‘^They are crossways on the road, or one front 
wheel is over the edge,’^ cried Harry. ‘‘See! 
See ! ’ ’ — The engine stopped suddenly, there was 
the sound of sliding rock, a piercing cry, then the 
lights looked like two lanterns tumbling, tum- 
bling. It was only a second, and then all was 
dark and quiet. 

“They ran off the road, Harry,” said Harvey. 

“Some one got killed just then,” said Harry, 
hardly above a whisper. “Let’s go down to 
them.” 

“Useless, old man. Let’s go for help, quick.” 

In thirty moments the entire Foresters’ camp, 
with such relief equipment as they had, both 
Scouts with their first aid cases and the one re- 
maining lantern, were pushing their way through 
the dark valley to the old tie road. 


114 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘What if we should find HighU’ said Mr. 
Standish, softly. 

“But we won’t,’’ replied Tompkins. “He was 
never in an auto in his life, I’ll wager that.” 


CHAPTEE VI 

OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 

T he auto was a complete wreck, as one 
would naturally suppose after rolling and 
crashing down nearly two hundred feet of 
cliff that was fairly bristling with sharp project- 
ing rocks, dead down timber, and coarse tallus. 
The steering gear had been forced with tremen- 
dous pressure against the stranger’s chest, and 
had, beside tearing his ribs from his breast bone, 
smothered his heart. He had died almost in- 
stantly, and was still pinned tightly in the front 
seat when the rescuers arrived. 

‘‘Surely this man did not come into these hills 
alone,” said Mr. Hastings, as he gazed at the 
wreck and the dead man, made more ghastly by the 
yellow glare of the lantern. 

“Let’s look about a bit. The others, if there 
were any, were probably thrown out,” said Uncle 
Bob. “Let’s have that lantern a moment. We 
must all go cautiously, too, or one of us will go 
rolling over that next step-off. It’s lucky the car 
hit that huge tree, for if it had rolled over once 
more nothing could have saved it from the stream, 
and then probably we would never have found our 
stranger at all.” 


115 


116 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


‘^Here’s a bag of something,” called Tompkins, 
and they all hurried to him. 

‘‘It’s the bag we saw High carrying early this 
afternoon,” cried Harry, in great excitement. 

“Then High is hereabouts,” said Mr. Hastings. 
“Let’s find him.” 

After a twenty minute search High’s body, 
broken and bleeding, was discovered in a low cedar 
where it had caught in its downward course. 
The man was, of course, unconscious, but still 
breathing. 

“That’s the man!” cried Harry, excitedly. 
“I’d bet a thousand dollars.” 

“That’s him all right,” said Harvey. “And 
what’s more, he can’t get away from us this time 
until we let him go. ’ ’ 

“Well, I should say not,” said Tompkins, who 
was kneeling over the injured man and examin- 
ing him. “He is very badly broken up. I’m not 
much of a surgeon, but any fool can tell that that 
left leg is broken and those scalp wounds may 
prove very scions. It is a marvel if there is not 
a fractured skull. These sharp granite rocks, you 
know, are not very considerate of even bone- 
headed individuals. ’ ’ 

“Here, Scouts,” called Mr. Standish, — “a 
make-shift litter, quick. Let’s get the poor fellow 
up to the road and see what can be done for him. 
He’ll die here in a few hours and we must find 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 117 


out a lot of things from High before that time 
comes. When it comes right down to it, I don’t 
believe he is our man after all. Poor old 
codger!” Tompkins whistled at this remark, and 
both boys looked at each other in surprise. 

In very few moments two slender spruce poles 
were cut and trimmed. The Scouts slid out of 
their jackets and ran the poles through the open 
sleeves, one in front of the other. A few extra 
thick boughs were stuffed into one coat for a pil- 
low. Then the Scouts took their places — one at 
each end, ready for service. 

‘‘Better let us do the lifting, lads,” said Mr. 
Standish, kindly. “It’s some job to carry a man 
up a forty-five per cent, grade. I’m sure that 
even we men will have to relay him before we get 
to the top.” 

Eeluctantly the Scouts obeyed, and soon Old 
High Tucker, yet unconscious, was lifted to the 
crude litter and started up hill. Harry made 
rough splints, while Harvey ransacked the wrecked 
auto for tire tape, for his adhesive had all been 
used up. In the search for tape, luckily, a col- 
lapsible canvas bucket and a pocket flash lamp 
were discovered, and soon the Scouts were pick- 
ing their way to the stream in the inky darkness. 
They must have water at any cost, and that in the 
least possible time. 

“What’s the matter. Scout?” said Harry, from 


118 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


behind, when Harvey stopped and waved him back 
disgustedly. 

‘‘No use, old boy, — foiled again! There is a 
cliif twenty-five feet high. The stream is at its 
base. We have no rope or ladder, and how are we 
to get down to that water? 

“Jump down,’^ said Harry, jokingly. 

“And jump back, with a bucket of water in each 
hand,’’ retorted Harvey, disgustedly. “It seems 
like everything we undertake to do in an emer- 
gency fails.” 

“Fails — shucks!” said Harry, more seriously. 
“We came for water, and we aren’t worthy of the 
name of Scouts if we go back without it. What 
shall we say to that Supervisor — ‘couldn’t get a 
drop, sir,’ and a stream within hearing distance? 
He’d simply roar.” 

“I’ve got it,” cried Harvey. “Have you your 
pocket ax? I’ll make a ladder of this tree.” 

‘ ‘ Sure, here it is. N ow what ? ’ ’ 

“See this tall spruce? Here, hold my legs till 
I reach out and catch hold of it.” He lay flat on 
the cliff and extended his arm as far as he could, 
but he could just reach the tender ends and they 
broke off. 

“Don’t be foolish, boy, and fall over yourself. 
One dead man and one wounded is enough for 
once. ’ ’ 

“Can’t quite reach it!” groaned Harvey. 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STORY 119 


‘‘That’s what you get for being a little shorty.” 

“I have an idea,” cried Harry. “Let’s buckle 
our belts together and by fastening a stick in the 
loop end we can catch it out there in that crotch 
— see?” 

“Capital idea!” shouted the other Scout, and 
in a second the casting line was ready. First 
time out it caught and soon the slender spruce was 
vibrating enough so that Harvey was able to catch 
a firm hold of the limbs near the top. 

“Now, I’ll swing out, Scout,” cried Harvey, 
“and work my way down. You drop me the 
bucket when I call.” 

“But how are we to land you and that water on 
the cliff when you do get back up with it?” said 
Harry in desperation. “You will need both hands 
to hold on with.’^ 

“Oh, I know,” cried Harvey. “I’ll cut a stout 
pole with a hook on the end of it — a long tram- 
mel-like, and I can pull the top of the tree over to 
the cliff while you get off. See, you can grab this 
old root.” 

“Hurray!” said Harvey, and he began his de- 
scent carefully, yet swiftly. 

Bang! came the bucket through the darkness 
and struck heavily on his head. He was off to 
the stream and then back again with the precious 
water, and then began the difficult process of climb- 
ing a very tall, slender spruce in the dark with 


120 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


two-thirds of a bucket of water in one hand. 
Harry thought Harvey would never come, and he 
could hear the men on the road two hundred feet 
above the cliff calling to them to hurry. 

Although part of the water was spilled in the 
process, the trammel worked well, and soon they 
were back on the road again. 

‘‘Thought you both got lost,’’ growled the 
Supervisor. “What did you do — distill that 
water?” 

Neither boy replied. They were too near out of 
wind to answer such a question, and so just how 
that precious bucket of water was secured forever 
remained a secret. 

Meanwhile Tompkins had opened High’s cloth- 
ing and had made him as comfortable as he knew 
how. Twice the injured man had uttered inarticu- 
late words and moved a bit, but had not opened 
his eyes. 

The Supervisor was lost in thought. “Got to 
get him out of this mighty soon,” he said, at last. 
“Tompkins, will you go back for the horses? 
Bring the two best. Then you can stay here with 
High and I’ll ride to Duffield’s to get help, tele- 
graph for a doctor, and report the accident to the 
County Coroner. Think we better leave that 
other poor duffer just where he is until the Cor- 
oner makes his investigation.” 

“Are you going to turn High over to the au- 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 121 


thoritiesT’ asked Tompkins, dryly of the Super- 
visor, studying his face keenly as he spoke. 

‘^No, I donT believe I will,’’ replied Mr. Hast- 
ings. don’t yet know what the connection is 
between High and this stranger, but at any rate 
the stranger is dead and can tell no tales. I be- 
lieve High is guilty, but am not sure of it yet — 
that is, sure enough to turn him over to the law. 
I’d like to take him to — to your cabin. Bob, if your 
wife wouldn’t object. She is a great nurse, and I 
want High near by where we can find out a few 
things. We could remove him to Duffield’s, and 
thence nearly to your place in a wagon. ’ ’ 

‘^That’s satisfactory,” said Bob, briefly. ‘H’m 
sure Belle would be glad to nurse him. She al- 
ways liked the old fellow, and she told me when 
we started that she hoped we would see nothing of 
him.” 

Tompkins took the only lantern and started 
for camp. ‘‘Better send the Scouts along with 
me to guard that camp over there till morning, 
hadn’t you?” he flung over his shoulder. “We 
haven’t caught our desperado yet, sir. I’ll wager 
it, and some one ought to be there. ’ ’ 

“Yes, we have too caught our man,” growled 
Hastings, almost compelled to stay by his former 
arguments. “But if you think best,” he con- 
tinued, “take them with you. They will be of no 
more use here. Scouts, what do you say? I’ll 


122 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


send Bob back, too, just as soon as we get help 
here. You boys get some sleep and to-morrow 
we’ll break camp for headquarters. Will you 
go?” 

The boys were not very willing to leave the 
scene of action, but it was their Superior in the 
Service who was giving orders and their Scout 
training told them it was their place to obey with- 
out question, no matter how they felt about it. 

As the three worked their way back through 
the valley and over the ridge to their old camp, 
Tompkins told them something about Old High 
that he had never mentioned to either the Super- 
visor or Mr. Standish. 

^‘You see. Scouts, it’s like this. You may think 
that I’ve been pretty obstinate about sticking up 
for High against the rest, even against so much 
strong circumstantial evidence, but I’m dead sure 
I’m right. Even if he is guilty I’d fight to the 
very last to save him. I’m going to tell you a 
secret, and you must keep it to yourselves. I like 
you boys, and I don’t want you to think me just a 
crank, but the truth of the whole matter is simply 
this: 

would have been shot by some one in these 
hills long ago if it was generally known who I 
really am. In fact, I have already been the target 
for a number of mysterious bullets that have al- 
ways been charged to careless hunters, but you 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 123 


see it^s this way. I, too, was a sheep man for 
years. ’ ^ His face convulsed at the very statement 
of fact, and although the boys could not see his 
face in the dark, they were conscious of a savage 
tenseness to his voice as he continued. 

‘‘High and I were on the same drive. 1^11 tell 
you all about it some day, perhaps. He was in 
charge of the herd — some ninety thousand head of 
‘ woollies, ’ just think of it ! And we were under- 
taking to force-march them through forbidden 
country, the valley of the Old Gunnison, to winter 
pasture. One day we found ourselves surrounded 
by one hundred masked, heavily-armed cow punch- 
ers, and were ordered by an advance guard to re- 
treat at once. Old High refused, on the grounds 
that he was an American citizen and the range was 
free. He had a reputation for being absolutely 
fearless and a dead shot. We kept guard nights 
by relays, each bunch of sheep having its own 
guards. The tenth night out, when it came High’s 
watch, he said he had heard horses pass on our 
right. I fell asleep again but in an hour I was 
wakened. High was not at his usual post. Some- 
thing was wrong. I got the other boys up, and we 
left an armed guard at camp and the rest started 
for the fracas. It was a great stroke of fortune 
for us that I had wakened. 

“The cowboys had captured High, and after a 
fierce, uneven fight, had tied him to a tree and were 


124 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


just preparing to stampede our whole flock over 
a rim-rock mesa that lay to our left by shoving the 
near sheep over and starting the others in that 
direction — a game that had been worked success- 
fully many times and with tremendous loss. We 
surprised the main body of cow punchers, and shot 
up the bunch good and plenty before they could 
rally forces. Then we found where they had tied 
High after his terrific struggle for freedom. Of 
course our first shots called all the cow puncher 
sentries in to help, but they arrived too late, their 
plans were upset. They had evidently expected 
to have the stampede well under way before we 
could get to them, knowing that after it was once 
started any human effort would be useless and 
they could then leave the sheep to their own de- 
struction. 

^ ^ There were at least four of those cow punchers 
killed that night, and we lost one herder. We 
knew, however, that it was just the first battle of 
a long war to the death, for those dead cow 
punchers had friends, and we were in a strange 
country and could not abandon what flocks we had 
at any cost. 

^^When we got to High, he was completely out 
of his mind, for he had been struck on the head 
with the butt of a heavy whip, and, strange as it 
may seem to you, lads, he had temporarily for- 
gotten everything he ever knew. His memory was 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STORY 125 


completely gone. Now and then a recollection of 
his earlier sheep war experiences would come to 
him and he would he rational for months, and 
then all would go blank again. Yet he swore ven- 
geance on any and all cow punchers whenever a 
rational time would come, and they took pains to 
keep out of his way, for he was, as I said, fearless 
and a dead shot. 

was a mere boy then, and in a way was a 
favorite of High^s partner, the day boss. He did 
not want anything to happen to me on this drive, 
so he ordered me back to Delta with our dead 
comrade. Yet I knew it was as much to save me 
as the body of the dead sheep herder. 

‘‘The air was full of war — ^war all over the 
range. In one place in Wyoming seven herders 
were lynched to one tree and their flock of one 
thousand ewes and seven hundred lambs driven 
into a make-shift enclosure and clubbed to death 
in the night. Many worse outrages were perpe- 
trated by both sides. 

“Two days after reaching Delta I learned that 
Ike Jacobus, the brother of the postmaster at 
Florence, was one of the killed cow punchers in 
our fight, and that Hamilton Jacobus, his brother, 
was shot through the leg. You remember. Scouts, 
it was Hamilton Jacobus that was shot and robbed 
last week by the desperado we have been hunting. 

“You see, lads, it looks dark for Old High, 


126 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


doesn’t it? For this story is known by many, 
and then the descriptions match. Dark, I say, but 
High is not guilty. 

‘^Soon afterwards I went to Dakota, was there 
seven years, and then came back here and entered 
the Forest Service. Imagine my surprise at find- 
ing my friend and benefactor. Old High Tucker, 
working under the Supervisor to whom I was as- 
signed. No one knew me. I told no one who I 
was, and fortunately for us both even High has 
never recognized me. Of course the Supervisor 
has never suspected, and he must not now; but I 
tell you again, boys. High is not guilty. 

There is one more thing I want to say. You 
have heard a good deal of Old Luke and his boys 
since you have been here?” Both boys assented 
eagerly. ‘‘Well, they were cow punchers in that 
same row and later took up sheep raising, graz- 
ing them illegally on isolated forests until driven 
off. They were active in the range wars for years 
and have a very bad reputation. They knew me 
as a boy, never as a man. But I’d best not tell all 
I know, I guess. At any rate, I have my own 
ideas about this Florence affair, and time will tell. 
If the right time ever comes' I’ll tell what I know. 
If not, I never will, for I am a Forester now, not 
a sheepman, and my life is too dear to me to 
throw it away in a useless feud. Yet, I will see 
High get fair play at any cost.” 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 127 


As they neared their camp they approached it 
cautiously, just for safety’s sake, but found every- 
thing just as they had left it three hours before. 
They would, of course, never know that if they 
had stayed away but one more hour they would 
have found their new camp also in ashes. Their 
mysterious visitor had arrived too late to put his 
plans into operation, and besides he had not 
counted on their returning to camp before day- 
light. 

After a few parting words of instruction and a 
personal investigation of the weapons left in 
camp, Tompkins started hack to the scene of the 
accident with a hit of food and the two best horses 
in camp. 

The boys were about exhausted, so after very 
few moments again disrobed and crawled into 
their bunk to await the dawn. 

“What I can’t see,” said Harvey, as he turned 
over suddenly, “is, if it wasn’t High, what in 
thunder was he doing in Uncle Bob’s house or with 
our pony or with that gun. ’ ’ 

“It’s quite natural that Tompkins should stand 
up for an old friend, but I’m inclined to think we 
have our man,” said Harry. “Looks to me like 
a new chapter in that old sheep and cattle feud.” 
Then, thoughtfully, he added, “Do you suppose 
we boys might possibly be mistaken? You know 
the Supervisor is basing all his opinion on what 


128 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


1 said 1 saw, I never thought of it till just now. 
What if they should prove High guilty just on 
what I have said — and I might be mistaken ! The 
man I saw up the canyon is the same one that is 
hurt. I^m positive of that, and he looks just like 
the one I saw on the pony that day, all but his 
hat — iUs a ditferent hat I’m sure. Ho you sup- 
pose I might be mistaken and that there are two 
men after all?” 

‘‘Oh, I hope there are two,” cried Harvey, 
“for we wanted to catch that desperado ourselves, 
didn’t we?” 

“We may have a chance to do so yet,” said 
Harry, “if Old High is not our desperado. Say, 
wouldn’t it be great if we could get High to tell 
us the story of his life as a sheepman. We will 
be awfully good to him at the cabin and perhaps 
we can get him to talking. It would help us to 
find out if we have made a mistake. I do so hope 
High won’t die. If he should, we’d never know 
the truth, and if he is innocent the real desperado 
would be free.” 

“But how could he tell us his story if he has no 
memory, as Tompkins says? Why, he wouldn’t 
even be able to remember where he was yester- 
day, ’ ’ replied Harvey. 

“Yes, but he has rational periods, Tompkins 
says, and then he remembers all. He must be ra- 
tional now, or how would he be in that auto? 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 129 


Those men were coming in to see something about 
that mine, that^s what I think.’’ 

‘‘Yes, and the reason he tried to burn us up was 
so that we would not learn that he had a mine. 
They always try to keep the location of mines a 
secret. Desperado or no desperado, it was High 
that stole our grub, killed that bear, and set fire 
to our brush piles. ’ ’ 

“But if it was High that stole the Supervisor’s 
saddle horse, why didn’t he ride it yesterday with 
that heavy bag he was carrying, instead of walk- 
ing?” 

“That’s easy,” cried Harvey. “He knew he 
was going to ride back in that auto.” 

“Oh, yes, but if High did steal that horse I 
should think he would have ridden it out with 
his load and then turned it loose, for he would of 
course realize that if he kept the horse by him at 
the mine sooner or later we would find him. ’ ’ 

“Well, I wish,” went on Harry, “that Tomp- 
kins had told us the rest of what he knows. Let’s 
ask him to to-day if we get a chance, and tell him 
about our doubts. Perhaps he has some other 
suggestions. If what he has told us about High is 
all, then I don’t believe he is our desperado.” 

The Scouts were just preparing breakfast for 
themselves when who should ride into camp but 
Toney Carson, the strapping athletic Danger that 
the Supervisor had left in charge while he was 


130 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


gone. He had hardly unsaddled and watered his 
horse when Uncle Boh, worn and sleepy, came 
trudging over the ridge. 

‘‘Well, what brings you here, Toney — ^bad news 
from the cabin U’ He spoke eagerly. “How in 
the world did you get here at this time of day — 
ride all night U’ 

“No, Bob,’’ replied Toney. “I should have ar- 
rived last night, but late yesterday afternoon, 
down near Luke’s tie-cutting camp, some one took 
a pot shot at me. Evidently I came on them un- 
aware, for the shot went very wild. In a flash 
it dawned upon me that it was Old Luke ’s boy, who 
is probably the desperado we have been searching 
for, so I decided to just play him a little game of 
checkers and take him in. Say, that outfit are the 
slickest bunch of hiders I’ve ever heard of. I 
couldn’t find the slightest sign of his whereabouts. 
I camped at the Deadwood cabin and went on a 
still hunt. Thought I could bait the rascal with 
my horse, but he wouldn’t bite.” 

“You didn’t see what he looked like, did you, 
Toney?” cried Harry, with a knowing wink at 
Harvey. 

“No, boys, I didn’t even get a glimpse, but I’m 
here and alive, and I have news. There is an 
awful row at the saw mill. Some of those jakes 
got wind that Luke and his boys were in the cala- 
boose and that they had been fetched in by cow 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 131 


punchers. Instantly an old sore was opened and 
trouble began. They at once took sides on the 
matter, seeing as how some of them were old sheep 
men and others cow punchers. They promptly 
had two or three of the liveliest shooting scraps 
you ever heard of. 

‘‘One gang started off to take Old Luke out of 
jail and hang him, and the other gang started in 
to resist their going, declaring that they ought to 
let justice take its course. You know what hap- 
pened. Well, the County Marshal thought it 
proper for him to slip over and take a hand, with 
the result he’s in the hospital with a broken jaw, 
the jail has been raided and Luke and all the rest 
are gone. The thing is very serious, for there have 
been three fires on the lower trail in two days, 
and it’s time you fellows are getting back to the 
scene of action. This little Sunday School picnic 
you have been having back here in the woods has 
lasted long enough!” and he laughed good- 
naturedly. 

“It has that!” exploded Mr. Standish. And 
then he proceeded to tell Toney just what had hap- 
pened to us on our little picnic. 

“Harry saw High,” continued Mr. Standish, 
“and we haven’t had the slightest intimation that 
there was any other living man in the valley till 
now. This strange shot at you, though, bothers 
me. I told the Sheriff when we delivered Luke to 


132 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


him a few days ago that he better not leave him in 
jail long, or something would develop. He only 
laughed at me. Say, hoys, you don’t suppose 
Luke, his boys, and High could be in partnership 
on this raiding business, do you? It looks like it 
might be possible. At any rate we have High. 
He is too badly hurt to try to escape. We’ll soon 
find out the truth. Fire on the trail, you say? 
Well, we’ll get off home to-day. Hastings wants 
us to get there before he does so as to have things 
ready for High. We are to pack light and get out 
at once.” 

So it came about that two days later, when High 
was moved to the Standish cabin, the Scouts were 
there along with their young bear ‘‘Courageous” 
to welcome him. Tompkins, upon his arrival, 
promptly called the Scouts to one side and gave 
them an interesting bit of news. “Courageous” 
wanted to know, too, but was only cuffed back by 
the excited Forester. 

“A strange thing has happened. Scouts,” he 
said, confidentially. “Old High’s memory has 
come back to him and he has been giving damag- 
ing evidence against himself all day without being 
conscious of it! Every time I have suggested that 
he keep still and rest Hastings has gotten warm 
under the collar and urged me to let him talk, for 
fear he might not get well and then we would be 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 133 

no nearer a solution of this mess than we are 
now. ’ ’ 

^‘Then we’ll hear High’s story,” whispered 
Harry to his brother. ‘^You just see if we don’t.” 

High was made comfortable in the spare bed 
and Mrs. Standish took charge of him. The doc- 
tor had come once, and would be back before the 
week was out. There was no internal injury. 
The broken leg would, of course, heal very slowly. 
But the thing that was of all absorbing interest to 
all the men was the great change that had taken 
place in High, even to his facial expression. 

Instead of being quite a diffident old hermit, 
such as they had known for years, he was now a 
friendly, talkative old man, wildly excited about 
his mine, yet filled with sorrow over the death of 
his friend in the auto. It was perfectly natural, 
then, that one evening a week later he should have 
said, with a confidential wink : 

“Yes, sir, it’s too bad, too bad, for Tip was a 
first-class fellow, and inasmuch as his dad and I 
were good friends, it seemed right enough for me 
to take him in first on that rich strike of mine. 
There is gold enough for both of us. His dad 
paid mighty dearly for my pig-headedness in that 
last sheep deal, and as I had to have a bit of capi- 
tal to develop the mine, I just conceived the idea 
of taking him in with me. He drove over from 


134 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


Pemberton in his car and I went out to meet him, 
and for fear he couldn’t get clear in with that auto 
I took a bag of the ore with me so he could see it 
for himself. He was delighted, and of course 
wanted to see the mine right away. The car must 
have rolled over the cliff into the stream, didn’t 
itr’ 

Bob and Mr. Hastings were watching each other 
out of the corners of their eyes. Tompkins real- 
ized this. He thought the time had come to draw 
High out in his own defense, so he deftly asked the 
question : 

^‘Wlio did you say Tip was. High?” 

‘ ^ Oh, Tip ? — why, of course, you never heard of 
him; how could you? Tipton Glaser, son of old 
J. M. Glaser, the former Sheep King of my early 
days. I was his foreman for years. It was 
really my fault that he lost so heavily, but I was 
determined to beat the cow punchers at their own 
game. It came near costing my life, too, 
though.” He paused as if to recollect something 
from a distant past. 

Harry nudged Harvey in the ribs with delight, 
while Uncle Bob and Mr. Standish pulled their 
chairs closer. 

‘Ht was an awful fight, boys. One of the very 
worst on the range. As I said before, it cost Mr. 
Glaser more than fifty thousand dollars and me a 
broken crown. So that was why I wanted to take 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 135 


the young man in and make him a bunch of easy 
money. He was just a boy in those sheep days, 
but he remembers. IVe got gold, boys, — the real 
yellow stuff in paying quantities, up in that hole, 
but what good is it to me now? All the mines in 
this U. S. A. haven’t enough gold to bring back 
Tip. He was an awfully determined fellow, just 
like his dad. He said to me he’d make that grade 
in that auto or smash, and he smashed. It was 
just like his dad when he says to me, says he, 
^ High, we ’ll take them woollies over the dead line 
into the cow country, or bust!’ and, by gracious, 
we busted; but not till we had made coyote meat 
for some of them houndish cow punchers. ’ ’ 

Mr. Standish and Tompkins were listening with 
half-closed eyes, their chairs tilted well back, but 
the Supervisor was leaning far forward and there 
was an eager gleam in his eye. Very casually he 
interrupted : 

‘‘You say there were some cowboys killed at 
that time. High? Who were they, do you re- 
member?” 

“Well, there was Ike Jacobus, for one, and Ken 
Woodworth and Cap Dillon.” 

“Is that so! And were there others hurt? I 
presume there just naturally was.” 

“Yes, two, as I remember it now. Hamilton 
Jacobus was shot through the leg and some other 
puncher crippled in the shoulder.” 


136 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


Mr. Hastings moved uneasily in his chair ; then 
in a cool, steady voice he said, as he watched the 
injured man^s every expression: 

^‘High, did you know that Hamilton Jacobus 
had been Postmaster at Florence for the past 
seven years and that just a few days ago he was 
shot and killed, supposedly by — a — ^humped-over, 
stoop-shouldered, sheep-man, who is at this hour 
at large on this very range ? ’ ^ 

Old High listened, his mouth wide open. 

‘‘By a sheep-man, you say? — My God, is that 
old feud still living! By a sheep-man — Old 
Luke — ’’ He was apparently thinking out loud 
just then and not addressing any one. 

“I told you so!^’ roared Tompkins, vehemently. 
“Old Luke^s the man, or his boys.’’ 

High looked at him surprisedly. 

“Oh, rats!” cried Hastings. “We have had 
Luke under our eye constantly for weeks and 
finally put him in jail. I realize that he is at large 
again now, but it could not have been he. ’ ’ 

“But you did not know where his boys were,” 
retorted Tompkins, with some feeling. 

“All but one of them,” snapped the Supervisor. 

“And how many do you think it took to shoot 
up old peg-leg Jacobus, pray tell, — a regiment?” 
And then in his high feeling he forgot. “One 
sheep-man could shoot up a whole camp of cow 
punchers any day, anyway, couldn’t they. High?” 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STORY 137 


Fortunately the true meaning of his remark 
was not appreciated by any save the Scouts at 
the time. 

‘‘And you were really in the great sheep and 
cattle war, HighF’ asked Harry innocently, so 
anxious was he to hear all the story. 

High nodded in the affirmative. 

“Do tell us all about it,’’ urged Harvey. 

“In light of present facts it would be interest- 
ing,” urged Hastings, and as all were eager High 
consented. 

“It started long ago, boys, — as far back as the 
seventies. An occasional sheep-man would ap- 
propriate a stray beef or adopt a few mavericks, 
then a band of whisky-happy cow punchers would 
riddle a trespassing herder. But such minor in- 
cidents never really marred the general seren- 
ity. 

“It wasn’t until the settlers began coming in 
large numbers that real trouble set in. They, of 
course, chose the best land for homesteads and 
put up fences to protect their stock and little 
homes. The fencing of grazing lands made it im- 
possible for great herds to run, so the cattle kings 
did everything in their power to suppress the set- 
tler. Range and feeding ground grew scarce. 
Then some folks, knowing that sheep could sub- 
sist and get fat on land that would let cattle 
starve, began bringing in sheep. They flourished 


138 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


and grew in numbers tremendously and paid enor- 
mous dividends. 

^‘Now it soon developed that cattle would have 
nothing whatever to do with pasture that had been 
largely grazed over by sheep, so the feeling grew 
between /the two parties until finally the great 
sheep and cattle raisers got together and divided 
range, making a dead line, over which neither one 
was to trespass. Then there came dry seasons, 
and the only available pasture lay farther back 
in the forest, nearer to the retreating snows. 
Thither the sheepmen endeavored to take their 
sheep. The war was on. A few capitalists had 
divided the whole western range for their own 
convenience, and expected smaller raisers to abide 
by their decisions without so much as consulting 
them. 

‘^One sheep raiser crossed over the dead line 
and took his sheep into the Big Piney valley, fa- 
mous for its cattle raising. He was attacked by 
cow punchers at night, the herders were tied to 
trees without any ceremony, and the flocks clubbed 
to death while the grub outfits were burned. But 
the sheepmen were determined. Others at- 
tempted the same game, and flock after flock were 
stampeded over the edge of the rim-rock mesas 
of which the sheep country is full. The two fac- 
tions began naturally to organize. The range be- 
longed to the Government and both parties were 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STORY 139 


entitled to use it. Wool was just as necessary as 
beefsteak, and so the feud grew in scope and 
strength. 

‘‘Then came the uncalled-for murder of ‘Pete 
Swanson, ’ who had taken one thousand sheep into 
the high hills for pasture in order to save them 
from starvation. He was warned to get out, but 
he flatly refused. Then masked men rode in upon 
him and ordered ‘Hands up!’ But instead, up 
went Swanson’s rifle. ‘I’m an American citizen! 
I’ll stand by my rights!’ he cried. He was shot 
dead, and his entire herd clubbed to death; and 
although ten thousand dollars was offered for the 
backguard, he was never taken. ’ ’ 

“Were you mixed up in any of those awful 
feuds, High ? ’ ’ asked Harry. 

“That I was, lad. I was a foreman for Glaser, 
one of the largest of the sheep herders. Once I 
started with twenty thousand head of sheep to 
cross Delta County into Mesa County. I went up 
on a bluff to do guard duty while my herders 
rested and slept, for we had been on watch night 
and day and were worn out. Just as I reached 
the top I saw twenty masked cow punchers ride in 
and begin to tie my herders. I knelt and raised 
my rifle, determined to clean them out. I could 
have gotten six — ^maybe half of them, but they 
would get me later, and at home was the wife and 
kids. They stampeded my flocks and I saved less 


140 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


than a thousand head. Later, while I was away, 
these same punchers, both Jacobus boys among 
them (I could see them plainly from my higher 
point with my glasses), rode to my own cabin in 
my absence and set fire to my house and barn, 
tore down my corrals, and frightened my wife 
until she died in hysterics. 

“I became a nomad whose main business it was 
to fight cowboys. Many’s the time I’ve shot at 
them from ambush.” 

‘^Careful, High,” said Tompkins, a black scowl 
on his face. 

‘‘And sometimes not from ambush. High?” 
pressed Hastings, his eyes tiny beads of burning 
light. 

“Yes, both,” replied High, calmly, then adding, 
“But that was long, long ago, boys. The sheep 
and cattle war is over now and I’ve been a peace- 
ful man these last years.” 

“Yes, and then you did what?” pressed Uncle 
Bob. ‘ ‘ Tell us how you came to get that wretched 
blow on the head that affected all the rest of your 
life.” 

“I took another flock, and Tob Barnes went with 
me. We started for Utah. I got notice to get 
out from the cow men. I went back, got more 
rifles and two thousand rounds of ammunition. 
We got other sheep men interested and we planned 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 141 


a great united drive, all going together — ^more 
than one hundred thousand head of sheep. 

‘‘Toh and I were in charge — one by day the 
other by night, and as the guards were posted each 
night, and the black sheep put out to the edges of 
the great woolly mass as markers, we would call, 
‘ Eemember Swanson ! ’ It was our pass word. 

“We were well started when we heard that a 
hundred cow punchers had pledged themselves to 
annihilate sheep and herders alike. We divided 
into bunches, each with his own grub wagon, and 
moved, one just ahead of the other. By careful 
maneuvering we got as far as Whitewater. Old 
Luke and his boys were in charge of one of the 
great flocks from Gunnison, and they were not 
afraid of all the cow punchers in the West, for 
they had been cow-men in former years and knew 
their brand. At Whitewater some of our herders 
got crazy drunk on whisky which the cattlemen 
generously gave them, consequently our guards 
were a bit disorganized. Directly to our left lay 
a great rim-rock, and unfortunately we were com- 
pelled to stop there to rest and sober up. It was 
the cowmen ^s coveted chance and they made the 
most of it. 

“The punchers came in the night. They had 
evidently planned an enormous stampede, but 
there was a young chap among our herders that 


142 THE BOY SCOUT TKAIL BLAZERS 


slept witli his ears to the wind. He heard strange 
sounds, so getting up and finding me gone from 
my usual post he gave the alarm. The herders 
came to my rescue, but I was hard set. I fought 
six of them and was all right as long as I could 
keep them in front of me. They dared not shoot 
for fear of bringing the herders from the other 
hunches that were camped along the rim-rock. 
They finally overpowered me by striking me on 
the head with a very heavy quirt butt. It was 
that blow that affected my mind. We saved a 
part of our sheep and force-marched them to 
Utah, but I was no good, for I could never re- 
member accurately, and at times not at all. 

‘ ‘ Old Luke tried to see a flock through again the 
next year, hut they got his sheep, every one, and 
nearly finished him. He swore then and there 
eternal vengeance on every cow puncher that 
should ever cross his path, and IVe heard it said 
that he has at least a half dozen cowmen to his 
credit, all of whom were in that attacking party. 
But that may just be boast. 

‘‘After the rustlers war I lost all I had, and 
my only friend, Mr. Glaser, was shot from am- 
bush. So I struck for the mountains, and IVe 
been here ever since, just puttering around, pros- 
pecting and washing on the range. I love the 
open and the big solitudes. I can’t bear a civil- 
ized bed. I haven’t slept in one for years till now. 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 143 


I know I^d get better sooner if yon would just put 
me out yonder under that big silver spruce. 
There is strength in the ground, boys, lots of it. 

‘Ht seems so strange to be telling you this 
story. It’s the first time I have been able to re- 
member it all at once since that awful night. 
Some way a hundred little incidents have occurred 
to me that I have not remembered for years and 
years just in these last few days since the excite- 
ment that came to me over my great gold strike. ’ ’ 

‘^High,” said Mr. Hastings, was over to see 
you the other day, but you weren’t home. Where 
do you keep yourself all day and night?” 

‘‘You were? — ^Why, that’s strange. I must 
have been to the mine. I’ve been working very 
steadily there now for some months, night and 
day much of the time, following up my new vein. ’ ’ 

“Where did you get that big grizzly skin that 
hangs on the cabin?” continued Hastings, care- 
lessly. “Must have shot it recently.” 

“I didn’t shoot it at all,” said High. Tomp- 
kins noted that there was no concern on High’s 
face as he said it. 

“How did you get it then, pray tell — sprinkle 
salt on its tail?” said the Supervisor, scornfully. 

“You may think it strange, boys, but to be per- 
fectly honest with you I’m not just sure where 
that bear skin came from. I remember it’s there. 
I remember about a man being at the cabin — said 


144 THE BOY SCOUT TKAIL BLAZEES 


he knew me well, and all that, but I couldn’t re- 
member him, and I was afraid he was just nos- 
ing about to see what I was doing at the mine. I 
remember of finding a haunch of bear meat at 
my cabin door and the hide stretched to dry, but 
to save my life I don’t know how it came there.” 

‘‘Those were great beetle trees we cut over in 
the valley. Too bad to have to get rid of them,” 
said Uncle Bob, trying to lead High out on a dif- 
ferent line and confuse his story. 

“Cutting beetle trees, were you? I was won- 
dering what brought so many of you up into that 
valley just at the time of the accident, but I for- 
got to ask. Yes, it beats all how the pest will 
break out if you don’t watch it. I used to take 
great pride in being able to locate them trees, 
but I haven’t paid much attention to them lately.” 

“I saw a boy’s hat — ^brown felt, hanging in 
your cabin. High. Is that your boy ’s ? ” asked the 
Supervisor, shrewdly. 

“Oh, no, Hastings, my lad is dead. I picked 
that hat up somewhere, — out of the stream I 
think. Some hiking party lost it, I suppose.” 

Tompkins laughed outright. 

“What you laughing at, Tompkins?” said High, 
crossly. “Do you think I’m lying?” His face 
was flushed now, and he noted for the first time 
the intense expression on all faces. 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STORY 145 


^‘What made you ask me so many little ques- 
tions, Hastings? What^s up? You donT sus- 
pect I’m crooked, do you?” 

‘‘High, you puzzle me greatly. You are so dif- 
ferent to-day than you were a month ago. You 
seem like a different man. I was always your 
friend, though, was I not? It was I that had you 
removed here. Why question my friendship for 
you? I have been a better friend of yours than 
perhaps you will ever know. ’ ’ 

“What do you mean, sir?” 

‘ ‘ Say, High, answer me just one more question. 
Have you had in your possession lately, or have 
you seen anything of, a sawed-off Winchester?” 

“Why, Bob; it is in my cabin now,” said High, 
slowly. 

Every one sighed audibly, and the Supervisor 
jumped to his feet and faced Tompkins, whose 
face wore a strange look of mingled surprise and 
disappointment. 

“But it is not my own, of course,” added High, 
slowly. “You remember my gun. Bob, — ^you have 
seen it very often. ’ ’ 

Mr. Standish nodded. 

“Well, I used mine very little, but always kept 
it in good condition and handy. Last week I 
went to get it and it was gone. In its place stood 
Bob’s old sawed-off Winchester. That was what 


146 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


first told me you were somewhere in the valley. 
I supposed something had happened to your own 
and that you had just borrowed mine. I was 
so busy at the mine that I gave the matter 
very little thought. You left it there, didnT you, 
Bob? 

‘‘No,’’ said Mr. Standish, “I did not. It was 
taken from my cabin a few days ago by a hump- 
shouldered, tired-eyed desperado, — the man, no 
doubt, who shot and killed Jacobus at Florence. 
He must have taken it to your cabin.” 

The color faded from High’s cheeks. Suddenly 
he understood the meaning of the questions. A 
deep anger flushed his face and he eyed the Super- 
visor, but all he said was : 

“Remember, Hastings, Jacobus was a cattle- 
man with a record, and no doubt deserved all he 
got. Sheep-men are loyal to each other. ’ ’ 

“Yes, but that doesn’t satisfy the law,” re- 
torted Mr. Hastings. “What we want is the man 
that did the shooting — and we think we have our 
man located.” 

“You will never find your man, sir,” said High, 
as if to close the matter. “Sheep-men don’t get 
caught. ’ ’ 

“We’ll see,” said Hastings. 

We rose to go, all but Tompkins, and he hung 
back to say a word to High. 

“High isn’t our desperado,” whispered Harry, 


OLD HIGH TELLS HIS STOEY 147 


‘‘and I’m so glad. Oh, isn’t he great! We must 
help him all we can. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The only way we can save him is to catch the 
real desperado,” said Harvey. “Oh, I wish we 
could, but I don’t know where to begin.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 

DON^T know what to think, Bob,’’ Hast- 
I ings was saying as he stood at the gate 
JL preparatory to leaving. ‘‘I am morally 
certain that High is guilty, but how we are ever 
going to prove it is more than I know. I’ll tell 
you confidentially what I think happened. High 
went to Florence and took samples from his hole 
in the ground to have them assayed. He prob- 
ably just stumbled onto Jacobus while there 
and, recognizing him, up and blazed away. It 
was the way of the range in those other days. He 
made his get-away then and forgot he ever did it. 
He doesn’t remember it yet. He may never re- 
member it again, and if he doesn’t — ^well — ” 

‘^Of course that may all he true,” said Uncle 
Bob, slowly, and with much hesitation, ‘‘but 
frankly, sir, I don’t see how, in the light of what 
we know, it could be true. However, sir, we shall 
see that no one interviews him, as you request, 
and will await developments. I wish that some of 
us could have stayed up there in the valley a few 
days longer to see what would happen after we 
once got our hands on High. You know, I have 

148 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


149 


been wondering over and over who it was that 
shot at Toney as he came to ns, for Lnke surely 
would not stay in the valley after his escape. ’ ^ 

‘^Oh, that was just a happenstance, Bob, noth- 
ing more. Some one shooting squirrel or some- 
thing else. You see if there had been any crim- 
inal intent they would certainly have tried again, 
or at least made more certain with the first shot. ’ ^ 

‘^Yes, but if he came onto them suddenly per- 
haps they might have fired hastily.” 

don’t take a bit of stock in this talk about 
Old Luke’s other boy being in the neighborhood. 
No doubt he is somewhere, but he knows too well 
that there are a hundred hands against him here, 
and he will keep himself scarce of these parts I’ll 
warrant you. ’ ’ 

‘^Perhaps so, perhaps so,” added Bob, dubi- 
ously, ‘^but you must not lose sight of this fact: 
It was the Forest Service that turned Old Luke 
over to the law, and so far, outside of this epi- 
sode at Florence, all the damage that has been 
done has been directed against your camp and 
mine — in other words, against the Forest Service. 
Now, if High was on a rampage it seems more 
than likely to me that he would have given some of 
the mountain ranchmen over in Beaver Canyon 
a little trouble, too, along with ours, as he had no 
grudge against the Service, or you or I, and if he 
has struck gold he would not need to steal. Mr. 


150 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEKS 


Hastings, there is a skunk in our woodpile some- 
where. Things just naturally donT smell right 
to me. We are woefully short of facts and are 
working in the dark. ’ ^ 

‘‘Well, we’ll see if that ghost will appear any 
more now that High is taken care of,” said the 
Supervisor, as if to close the matter. “Now for 
business : Bald Knob Valley has to be cruised at 
once. My ! but I hate to see that splendid growth 
of Western yellow pine and lodge pole cut. We 
have cared for it night and day these long years 
and it has been the pride of our division. But, 
of course, I realize also that it’s full of prime 
‘standards’ and ‘veterans,’ and it’s as much a 
part of good forestry to sell them when they’re 
ripe as it is to bring them to the ripe condition. 

“That Harbaugh concern that cut that big tract 
on Turkey Creek last spring has made applica- 
tion for five million feet, and that means work for 
us all. It also means that the big mill will be 
moved in and that they will go after it hard when 
they do start. It doesn’t take long now-a-days to 
strip a valley of its best trees with those con- 
founded little donkey engines, steel skid-cables 
and a train of cars. Two saw mills in the valley 
will keep us busy. 

“They want to put the mill in on the stream 
just where the growth of aspens stood and run 
their main track straight back through the valley. 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


151 


They will cut both sides of the slope at once and 
yank their logs down to the track with the donkey 
engine and cables. It beats the old-fashioned 
horse skidders all to pieces. It’s awfully hard on 
the small stuff and seedlings, but what are you 
going to do? They are planning on cutting ties 
out of the tops, and they want to leave the burn- 
ing of their slash piles until snow falls. That 
means we must watch it night and day, and 
also that somebody has got to go right over to 
that camp, live there and keep check on ties 
and saw logs. I trust Old Harbaugh all right, 
but those cutters, you can’t tell a thing about 
them.” 

‘‘Yes, sir. Who is to go?” asked Mr. Standish. 
“It looks like it’s up to Toney or Tompkins. I 
can’t go, for I must be getting after those seed 
for the nursery at Palmer Lake. Then, too, there 
is that little sale over in Grass Valley that we 
have been standing off, and that matter about 
grazing in Upper Box Canyon. You can’t go, of 
course, and I declare it seems too bad to take 
Toney off the two trails, for with this gang of 
mill hands hunting the woods on Sundays and 
coming and going with their pipes, I’m afraid we 
will be kept busy. Then, too, don’t forget Luke 
is out and he will get even. Let’s offer a reward 
for his arrest at once.” 

The Scouts had been helping Tompkins har- 


152 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


ness, and now came toward the two Foresters, 
leading the horses. 

‘‘Can’t have Tompkins,” Hastings was saying. 
“He must get at the reports at once and look after 
those experiments we have been conducting for 
the State Forester relative to the Ichneumon Fly. 
I don’t suppose you would be willing to have the 
Scouts go over there a few weeks, would you. 
Bob? One boy could check logs and the other 
keep his eyes open about the slash and keep us 
posted as to the condition of the young stuff. 
They would be certain of excellent treatment, be- 
cause they would be there as representatives of 
Uncle Sam. It would be a great experience for 
them. Bob, just like going to school. They would 
learn a thousand little things that would make 
them good foresters later. You know it strikes 
me they are the stuff future foresters are made of 
anyway.” 

“Well, Scouts,” cried the Supervisor merrily, 
“now you are back for real work again on the 
range. You will have to let Old High tame that 
cub for you and you get into the real harness. 
Your uncle here has a proposal to make to you, 
and I just want to say, you have made good with 
me. I believe in you both. I have tried very 
hard to make you boys cross. I was just testing 
you to see what you were made of. I tell you, 
you have the real Scout spirit, and if you are as 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


153 


eager to learn this next month as you have been 
these past two weeks then you are going to have 
a great opportunity now.’’ 

Uncle Bob opened the plan to the boys, and 
Tompkins, seeing all were occupied, hastily ex- 
cused himself and went to the cabin again, sup- 
posedly to get his gloves. Aunt Belle was just 
coming down the path, and as he passed her he 
thanked his lucky stars for his good fortune, for 
he had been wondering all the morning how he 
was to get a few words with High alone before he 
left. He hurried in, and there was a gleam about 
his eye that was almost fierce. 

‘‘High,” — ^the old man turned sharply, a look 
of inquiry on his face, “I’ve just got about two 
minutes — listen ! I want you to get every word I 
say and keep it to yourself. For your own sake, 
believe it’s the truth that I’m telling you. 

“You are at present in a net of circumstantial 
evidence that it is well nigh impossible to get you 
out of. The law is looking for you. Hastings be- 
lieves you shot and killed Jacobus at Florence, 
and has some strong evidence to that fact — ^you 
were in Florence, and you know it, so does he; 
Jacobus was a cattleman, you are a sheepman; 
you perfectly well know that that last feud became 
notorious; everybody that knows anything about 
the range wars at all knows that you took solemn 
oath to kill every cow man that ever crossed your 


154 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


path — He was tearing on at a terrific rate, 
his clenched fist bobbing up and down under poor 
Old High^s protesting face. 

‘^Now, I know you are innocent, but I can’t 
prove it yet. I am the Tompkins — the young 
chap you ordered back to Whitewater with Park- 
inson’s dead body. I am your friend. I will not 
fail you. But listen, man, you babble like a school 
boy. You talk like a graphophone. You tell all 
you know, and then some. Now, my good friend, 
listen to me. You are lost, absolutely lost, and all 
the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t 
save you unless you shut up. Keep still. Do 
you hear me? You don’t know anything more 
about anything or anybody. If you fail on your 
end of the bargain, remember, you’ll hang. High. 
The people of these valleys are sick and tired of 
this killing business and you wouldn’t have a ghost 
of a show with any jury that might be gotten to- 
gether in these hills. I’ll do my best. These 
Scouts know all about it. They are your friends. 
You can trust them. But don’t talk.” 

High watched him disappear through the door 
and then settled himself down to think. The more 
he thought, the greater the confusion that crept 
into his mind, until he just sat and stared. He 
could not comprehend it all. A week ago he 
struck gold, and to-day he was being hunted by 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 155 

the law for a murder he had never heard of be- 
fore. 

The boys were delighted at the prospect of their 
new work. For nearly a week they worked with 
Toney and Uncle Bob, completing the new For- 
estry trail that was to join the West Beaver 
Reserve with the East Beaver Reserve. Some- 
times it was drilling a path on solid rock, some- 
times up long zig zag slopes of sliding tallus, or 
again down through little green valleys of quak- 
ing aspens or through the long avenues of pine 
and spruce. It was vigorous work, but they were 
learning much and it was getting them thoroughly 
seasoned in arm and limb for the long days when 
the mill should come. 

At night they took much pleasure in feeding and 
romping with the cub, who had been chained with 
a stout chain and collar to a pine just away from 
the porch. At first the bear was very shy and 
would become very watchful when the lads came 
near. Invariably he would whiff the air and when 
they drew close enough smell and smell of every- 
thing they had on. At such time he would act so 
queerly that the boys could not make it out. They 
noted, however, that he went through the same 
performance no matter who came near him. 

Once Mr. Harbaugh had occasion to come to the 
cottage on business, and happened to come when 


156 THE BOY SCOUT TKAIL BLAZERS 


the cub was asleep. Suddenly he awoke with a 
yelp and bounded in a single leap to the end of 
his chain. So violently did he jump that the chain 
suddenly tightened out and threw the cub to the 
earth with terrific force. He gathered himself 
together, his hair on end, his whole body quivering 
with fear, his eyes tiny balls of fire and every 
muscle alert. 

High spoke to him kindly, and at the sound of 
a familiar voice he sneaked over to the chair and 
lay down, half ashamed of himself, yet whining all 
the while. 

‘^That cub has a powerful dislike for some odor 
or other,” observed High, ‘‘and he thought for 
just a second you had some of it on you. I don’t 
know just what it is, but that cub has a powerful 
good smeller and he doesn’t propose to get too 
near to anything that don’t smell just right.” 

“Courageous” was keen of wit and soon 
learned to play like a fat and well-fed puppy. He 
ate everything placed before him and begged for 
more, so grew amazingly fast, and before the boys 
could realize it their cub was changing into a pow- 
erful grizzly bear that was perfectly friendly to 
all whom he knew, but very fierce and terrifying 
to every stranger until he had entirely satisfied 
his smeller that the new party was in no way 
identified with some terrible odor that haunted his 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


157 


sensitive nostrils. He was an extremely curious 
bear, and it was almost painful to watch him when 
new folks or objects came for the first time into 
his world — his curiosity urging him on to in- 
vestigate and his horror of some dread smell hold- 
ing him back as if by a mighty chain. 

One fine morning the Scouts awoke to find the 
valley fairly wiggling with yellow and brown 
caterpillars. Aunt Belle promptly forbade any 
one from drinking the water until it had been 
boiled, and Uncle Bob spent two hours investi- 
gating and making a report. 

‘ ‘ Gee, the birds will have a feast to-day ! ’ ^ said 
Harry to his uncle. 

‘‘They sure will. It’s Thanksgiving in Bird- 
ville to-day,” added Harvey. 

“That’s just where you are all mistaken,” 
laughed Uncle Bob. “A bird never eats a yellow 
caterpillar. Yellow is a sign to all birds that the 
worm is sour and bitter, and he leaves it abso- 
lutely alone. That’s why birds don’t eat bees and 
wasps — same yellow sign. No, lads, they must 
be gotten rid of in some other way. Nature keeps 
all of her wild life balanced to a nicety, except 
where man, in his ignorance, has made it impossi- 
ble by changing natural conditions. I predict that 
before night there will be some parasite at work 
among these caterpillars. We’ll watch and see. 


158 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


You know one of the things a good Forester must 
know is what insects to protect and what ones to 
exterminate. ^ ’ 

‘‘Why, do you ever protect anyU’ asked Harry, 
in surprise. 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, indeed. We learned long ago that the 
most efficacious way to fight insects is with in- 
sects.” 

They were examining a spot that seemed to be 
especially alive with the crawling things, when 
Uncle Bob called them over to observe a strange 
sight he had discovered. There, before them was 
a long-legged yeUow-brown fly that the boys had 
often seen before but had never paid much at- 
tention to. Deftly and quickly the long-legged 
fellow flew from worm to worm, lighting on 
each just long enough to force a sort of a stinger 
into the back of a caterpillar, and then on to the 
next one. 

The boys were amazed, and naturally looked to 
their uncle for an explanation. 

“That is the Ichneuman fly, boys,” he said, 
“and she is very busy stinging and laying her 
eggs in the segments of the caterpillar. You see 
she has a great eye for the future. The cater- 
pillar will soon build its chrysalid, expecting in 
due time to hatch into a moth, but long before that 
happens the egg of that fly will hatch inside the 
cocoon and eat the body of the moth-to-be. Its 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


159 


egg-laying propensity is thereby cut off, and the 
pest dies out. 

‘‘That one fly will perhaps sting a thousand 
caterpillars, and no doubt there are many hun- 
dreds of them at work to-day. It is their harvest 
time. See here! Here is a ground wasp doing 
substantially the same thing, except that she is 
carrying the worms away. Let us follow her.’’ 

Soon they came to a tiny round hole in the 
ground. The wasp unceremoniously shoved the 
worm into the hole, kicked dirt into the cavity 
with her hind legs, and then started straightway 
to excavate a second hole close at hand. 

“You see, boys, the wasp lights on the worm 
and injects the poison through its stinging ap- 
paratus. That paralyzes the worm. She then 
lays her eggs in the body and deposits it in the 
ground. When the young wasps hatch they de- 
vour the meat. It is the way of Nature. ’ ’ 

The boys learned many such lessons the next 
couple of weeks while they were waiting for the 
advance guard to come on to the mill. One day, 
while cutting underbrush, Harry uncovered a 
great pile of disintegrated pine cones. He dug 
about them with his heavy boot, and to his sur- 
prise they went into the ground at least three 
feet, while here and there among them were pock- 
ets of green cones that it was very evident had 
been carefully hidden by some one. He called to 


160 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


Harvey and together they carefully investigated. 

^‘Squirrels must have done it/^ said Harry, at 
length. 

‘‘Oh, bosh!’’ exclaimed Harvey. “All the 
squirrels in the U. S. A. couldn’t pile up pine 
cones like that. Why, there must be millions of 
them rotting here together.” 

After some discussion they gathered up some 
of the larger cones and worked their way over the 
ridge to where Mr. Standish was making prepara- 
tion to erect a high tower for use in watching for 
fires. As was his custom when the Scouts came to 
him with a question, he took the necessary time to 
explain matters to them carefully. 

“Yes, squirrels, boys. Probably Douglas squir- 
rels. You see they are up long before you are, 
and they come together in little parties every 
morning to eat their breakfast. They cut away 
the shingles of the cones and remove the dainty 
nut-seed that is under every scale. When they 
have finished one cone they dive off into the woods 
to where they have hidden countless others and 
bring another. So it goes on, year in and year 
out, until there is a great pile of shells. These 
slowly rot away and make fertilizer for the woods. 
I have seen patches forty to fifty feet square and 
sometimes three feet deep, — ^perhaps the accumu- 
lation of fifty years. 

“The interesting thing to the forester about 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


161 


it all, though, boys, is that the squirrels never find 
nearly all the cones they bury. Dirt gets in about 
them, they sprout, and the first thing you know 
there is a tiny new tree, and the squirrel has be- 
come a forester. Countless millions of trees are 
thus planted each year by these noisy little folk. 
True, they do eat a great many of the seed, but in 
the long run what they so carefully bury makes 
up for what they eat. That process often ex- 
plains how it is that young trees sprout so soon 
on a burned-over area. The cones and seed are 
already in the ground germinating, and when the 
sun and rain gets to them they grow rapidly.’’ 

A few days later the Supervisor came again and 
announced that the advance mill crowd would be 
along in ten days to clear and set up the mill. 
That meant just ten days to cruise the valley. 

‘H’ll bring Tompkins and Toney in the morn- 
ing. You bring the Scouts along, and the cruise 
books for the section, and we’ll get at it. You 
can take charge, and I will come after the cruisers 
and mark the trees that are to be cut. ’ ’ 

So it was that the next morning found each of 
the Scouts with a simple pair of calipers, at work 
in the woods measuring the diameters of the trees, 
while Tompkins and Toney estimated at a glance 
how many saw logs sixteen feet long each tree 
would make. 

‘‘Yellow Western, twenty-eight — four,” called 


162 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


Tompkins. Then, ‘‘Silver, thirty-one — five,’’ 
called Toney. Then “Lodge pole, fourteen — 
four,” Tompkins would call, and Uncle Bob 
hastily made his records, the first number being 
the diameter of the tree, breast-high, and the sec- 
ond the approximate number of saw logs the tree 
would make. 

The Supervisor came along behind, his Govern- 
ment ax over his shoulder, marking the timber. 
Here and there he would blaze a great giant pine 
at its base, and then turning his ax over would 
deftly stamp into the blaze a bold “U. S.” by 
means of the heavy raised letters on the head of 
his ax. 

Thus it was that the timber of Bald Knob Valley 
was cruised and marked ready for cutting. 
Soon the now sublime silence would be broken by 
the sickening sound of the engine as the hungry 
saw forced its steel fangs into the resinous wood 
and flung the sweet-scented sawdust into the air. 
A majestic growth of perhaps three hundred years 
would be cut in a few months’ time and shipped off 
to form a part of the busy world’s commerce. 

That day’s work finished in the low wet end of 
the valley where there had once stood a magnifi- 
cent forest of yellow pine that had been burned 
very severely perhaps a hundred and fifty years 
before. Here tangled through the splendid secr 
ond growth were countless millions of decaying, 


THE TEAIL BLAZERS 


163 


rotting logs, laying just where some gale had 
toppled them over after the flames had made them 
insecure. Here and there a mighty ghostlike 
trunk still stood, preserved in its embalming 
fluid of pure pine pitch. Among those logs the 
Scouts discovered the most gorgeous fungi they 
had ever seen. There were toadstools of red and 
yellow and brown, flat, domed, and cup-shaped, 
growing in rank profusion. 

‘^Oh, aren’t they beautiful!” cried Harvey. 
‘H’d like to gather a whole wagonful just to 
keep. ’ ’ 

‘Hf it wasn’t for these,” said Tompkins, kindly, 
/Hhere would be no forests on these mountains 
at all. They just work away here, quietly but 
surely, and no one sees their work. ’ ’ 

‘‘But what on earth do they do, Tompkins!” 
asked Harry, eagerly. 

“Why, listen,” said the Supervisor. “You see 
this great tangle of down timber, don’t you! 
Every one of those rotting logs was like that mag- 
nificent old stub there — hard as flint and as sound 
as oak. The forest was partially destroyed, and 
those great logs were cleared away ready for a 
new growth, but if left alone it would take a hun- 
dred years for them to decay even to a semi-rotten 
state. Why, before they could return to earth 
again a second calamity might befall this valley 
and topple over on them a second installment. In 


164 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


a thousand years the forest would be one great 
enormous pile of rubbish, incapable of any further 
growth. But Nature is a wise guardian of her 
domains, and so she gave all these great stretches 
of waste to the different families of fungi, and 
in a surprisingly short time they take the largest, 
hardest trees and reduce them to rot and return 
them to the soil ready to be used over again by 
the new growth. With the aid of these brightly 
colored fellows, twenty years sees the forest com- 
paratively clear and ready for new growth. The 
fungi are the foresUs chambermaids, and they 
are always busy tidying things up. Now and then 
a gray squirrel carries one of the largest mush- 
rooms home for a special feast, but on the whole 
they grow and multiply by the millions and do 
their good work.’’ 

The next day a temporary camp was set up and 
the mill crew set to work cutting a road up 
through a thick growth of lodge pole pine to 
where the big camp was to set. Pine Cone Camp 
flourished, and before the week was out the road 
was opened up and the first loads of the simple 
mill arrived, then came loads of light-weight rails, 
funny little flat cars, and a squatty, sneezy en- 
gine. 

What surprised the boys most of all was the 
tremendous number of length of smoke stack that 
were brought in. They were to learn afterward 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


165 


that it was necessary to run a very tall stack to 
get up above the trees for draft, and second, by 
so doing there was not near the danger from 
treacherous sparks. 

A huge skeleton of aspens was erected and cov- 
ered with canvas to serve as stable for the sturdy 
teams that were to carry lumber out to the rail- 
road. Then came the big mess-tent and kitchen 
where was to be manufactured the food for a 
hundred hungry men. The bunk house was a 
crude frame atfair, built largely of poles and the 
cull lumber of the first few days sawing, roofed 
over with rolls of heavy asbestos roofing. 

The rollways were arranged. The sawdust pit 
was dug under the saw and arranged so a queer 
one-horse dump cart could drive right under and 
get the dust as it accumulated. There were men 
with pevies and pike poles, there were men with 
axes and long cross-cut saws. There was a turn- 
bled-together blacksmith shop, where axes and 
saws were kept in shape, and last, but not least, 
there was a clearing off to one side where a half 
board, half tent shack was put up for the resi- 
dence of the Government inspector. Out at the 
edge of the clearing rose the majestic forest of 
Bald Knob Valley — superb timber, one of the 
country’s greatest bits of natural wealth. 

The men were all friendly disposed to the 
Scouts, and in fact it was only a few days until 


166 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


they had many real friends among the rough hard- 
working men, and many were the interesting 
yarns and bits of reminiscence they heard, both 
at the table and about the camps. True, there 
were some that were coarse and made sport of the 
young Foresters, and a few who even showed them 
contempt. As everywhere else in the world where 
there is a large company of men, there was every 
kind, and the boys soon learned with whom to be 
friendly and whom to avoid. 

There was one fellow — a big, rawboned, fierce 
looking chap, that was not at all careful of his ap- 
pearance or his talk, to whom both boys early 
took a dislike. One of the men had hinted to 
Harvey that this unlikeable fellow was a timber 
drifter, who worked at one mill awhile and then 
moved on. He had been on the job only a few 
days and seemed, for some reason of his own, 
to wish to be left absolutely alone. He was a 
good workman, however, and could easily beat any 
other man in camp with a broad ax. He could 
cut and dress three trees while most men were 
making one, and he did it with an ease that was 
marvelous. He was a woodsman, born to the use 
of an ax, and there was no doubting it, he was an 
artist. His vocabulary was very meager and 
consisted largely of words and terms that are 
usually excluded from polite society. He always 
had a generous chew of tobacco in his protruding 


THE TEAIL BLAZEES 167 

cheek, and could spit oftener and with more pre- 
cise accuracy than a squirt-gun. 

He eyed the boys closely whenever they came 
near him, and to both there was sort of an irre- 
sistible curiosity about him. Whether it was his 
utter uncouthness or his semi-wildness that at- 
tracted them, they did not know; but very often 
they found themselves just staring at his huge 
frame strung with muscles of steel that stood out 
like whip cords, or at his sad, half-wistful face 
that was covered with weeks of unkempt whiskers. 
There was something simply irresistible about 
his gray eye. 

Things were getting pretty well organized. The 
track was laid up the valley and the steam loaders 
that were placed along the track were gotten into 
shape. Attached to each was a large steel drum 
upon which was wound a fine high tension steel 
cable. This cable was run out up the valley to 
where the loggers were getting out the logs. In- 
stead of snaking them in with a team, as in the 
old-fashioned logging, this cable was simply at- 
tached to the log when ready, and with a puff and 
a snort the dingy little donkey engine would pull 
it into the track with an ease that was almost 
comical. To be sure, this dragging process was 
very hard on the small trees and young seedlings, 
yet it was a time-saver and therefore a money- 
maker, and could do as much work in one day as a 


168 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


dozen teams of the best horses. The cable was re- 
leased when the log was deposited on the rollway 
and pulled back into the woods ready for another 
log by means of a simple back line that was wound 
on a small drum and a stout pulley fastened to 
some sturdy tree out in the forest. 

Sometimes it would happen that the inrushing 
log would strike some obstacle, and then with a 
sudden snarl it would pitch high in the air, turn 
over perhaps end for end, and then fall a heavy 
dead weight again in the slash and small trees. 
Woe to the ‘^cutter’’ or ‘‘rigger’’ or “sawer” that 
got in the way of one of these enormous green 
logs on its resisting way to the saw mill ! 

Jaycox, for that was the name of the strange 
wild man of the camp, had never before worked 
in a camp that employed a steam skidder and was 
constantly in danger of being crushed, for he had 
long made it a habit to compel his huge brute 
strength to save him in an emergency, instead of 
his small and less active brain. 

His turn came in spite of all warning and 
threats. A great log on its way in, with the ir- 
resistible little donkey on one end, struck a stump, 
flew high in the air, turned on end, made one 
great half circle, and fell, stripping the heavy 
limbs out of a great Western and dropping them, 
in the twinkling of an eye, on Jaycox ’s mighty 
form. This was too much for him. His body 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


169 


swayed and then sank to the ground under the 
mass of debris. 

He was quickly rescued and hurried to the mill, 
but it was very evident his spine was hurt and that 
one shoulder was crippled. The foreman, a sturdy 
Dutchman, was quite put out, for he prided him- 
self on the few accidents there were in his camps. 
He was a boss who had a man for everything, and 
everything assigned to a man, and when every 
man held up his end, accidents were wellnigh im- 
possible. 

He had been afraid from the first that Jaycox 
would get killed, for it was very evident the man, 
if he had brains, rarely ever used them. He 
seemed to be entirely preoccupied all the while 
and his work was merely mechanical. 

At the mill it was decided to take him to the 
Forester ^s cabin, for, as the foreman said: 

‘‘Mrs. Standish is worth all the doctors in the 
State of Colorado to a hurt lumberman. Why, 
anybody would get well with her a ’fussing over 
them. ’ ’ 

Jaycox objected with all the strength he had. 
He had no use for women of any kind or descrip- 
tion and declared he would rather die in the camp 
than go to the cabin. However, it was decided 
best for him, and he was placed on a stretcher 
and hurried away, while the great circular saw 
groaned on and while the stubborn little donkey 


170 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


engines yanked countless logs to the rollways. 

It was just before noon when they arrived. 
‘‘Courageous’^ lay in his customary place in the 
sun. High was dozing in his big chair, and Aunt 
Belle was singing merrily at her work. The rustic 
gate swung open with a squeak. Harry had come 
with the injured man and so now led the little 
procession. 

‘ ‘ Courageous ’ ’ came to life like a flash and made 
a violent lunge to get away, his nose high to the 
wind. Harry spoke to him several times, but to 
no avail. As the party drew nearer the house 
the bear made such a commotion that High awoke 
with a start and sat up, while Aunt Belle hurried 
out to see what could be wrong. 

“Courageous” was wild. He pawed the air, he 
whined piteously, he lurched out to the end of his 
chain with enough force to break it, only to be 
flung flat by the taut chain. He rose to his hind 
legs, whiffed violently, and then gave one last 
terrific lurch. The chain gave way at the collar 
and “Courageous” was free. He trembled a 
moment and then, without so much as a glance 
backward, he made for the timber and was gone 
as if pursued by all the evil spirits in creation. 
Evidently he had smelled the odor that told him of 
slaughter, of struggle, of a cold, lifeless, bloody 
mother that could not feed her children. He had 
smelled a man smell that was associated with all 


THE TEAIL BLAZERS 171 

that was terrible in his young bear life, and he was 
gone. 

The little cavalcade pressed on to the shade of 
the porch, where the injured man was placed on 
an old settle until other arrangements could be 
made for him inside. Jaycox’s tired gray eye 
met High’s. There was a flash in both, but 
neither man spoke. The men withdrew at the 
suggestion of Mrs. Standish, all save Harry, and 
he lingered. He hastened to bring fresh water 
from the spring, and when well out of ear shot, 
Jaycox turned wearily on his couch and whispered 
across to High : 

‘‘ ‘Remember Pete Swanson!’ I see you recog- 
nize me. Sheepmen are always loyal to each 
other. I had sworn to get Jacobus, and I did. 
The old score is clean now, all but one. I’ll get 
Hastings soon. He should not have meddled with 
my father.” 

“But they are free,” said High, in an unguarded 
moment. “They broke jail.” 

A fierce light of joy sprang into Jaycox’s eyes, 
and he continued : 

‘ ‘ Swear you will not betray me ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Only on one condition, ’ ’ hissed High. 

“What?” demanded Jaycox. 

“That you leave the country in thirty days, and 
that you agree not to in the slightest way harm the 
Service. They saved my life. ’ ’ 


172 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘I agree,’’ said Jaycox, hesitatingly. 

‘‘A sheepman’s word is honor,” replied High. 

^‘Give me a chance to join my father and we will 
strike for Montana,” said Jaycox. ‘‘Are they 
hunting him with a posse ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, the Sheritf is—” 

‘ ‘ If they catch him, I will have one or two more 
to get before I go, for when I go Luke goes with 
me. I came all the way from Montana, horse- 
back, to clean up my score and get Had and the 
kid. I have a sheep ranch there.” 

Mrs. Standish interrupted further talk by en- 
tering to doctor the injured man. A few days of 
careful nursing, hot applications and rest, soon 
put Jaycox back on his feet and he was back at the 
mill doing light work about the engine. 

He had just emerged from the sawdust pit as 
Harry came down the trail. Like a flash an idea 
came into Harry’s mind. He had been turning a 
fancy over in his mind ever since the day of the 
accident, and with the sudden appearance of Jay- 
cox the fancy seemed to take shape. There was 
most certainly some strange connection between 
this Jaycox and “Courageous,” of that he was 
certain, but in just what way, he had not been able 
to determine. It came home like a flash. That 
cub had smelled Jaycox before and had a decided 
dislike for him. “Why — ^why — ^why then, he must 
have been the man that shot and skinned his 


THE TRAIL BLAZERS 


173 


mother!’’ he breathed. As he thought about this 
discovery, many things seemed to straighten out 
in his mind. Jaycox must have been the camper 
on the mountain where the stolen canned goods 
were. If so, it was he that had burned them out. 
The bear’s hide was found at High’s cabin, to be 
sure, yet ‘‘Courageous” was very fond of High. 
Evidently the hated man-smell was not on old 
High Tucker but on Jaycox. 

‘ ‘ Oh, then I have my desperado I ’ ’ cried Harry, 
“ — all but to catch him; and then I can clear Old 
High of every bit of suspicion. But first, I must 
get more evidence. I’ll talk to High at once. No, 
I’ll keep it all a secret till I’m sure. I’ll watch 
him closely every day and plan a way to capture 
him. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VIII 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 

^^TT^IRES! fires! fires!’’ said Mr. Standish, 
wM wearily. ‘‘We have never had so 
JL many before, and I suppose it is the 
dry season and so many careless saw mill hands. 
Yet, sometimes, I think Luke is at the bottom of 
most of them. I wish he could be captured. 

‘ ‘ It was only yesterday Toney succeeded in put- 
ting out what in an hour’s time would have been 
a terrific fire by riding hard and then beating out 
the flames with his wet saddle blanket. If a bit 
of a breeze had arisen we would have had Famine 
Valley aflame in no time. Toney is one of the 
wisest fire-fighters in the Service, and it seems to 
me that the Supervisor would do well to put him 
over at the mill, at least until we have rain, for 
those miserable little ‘donkies’ kick sparks into 
the air like every day was the Fourth of July. ’ ’ 
“Mr. Kable is very watchful, though. Uncle,” 
reassured Harry. “He has the entire camp or- 
ganized in squads, each squad with a leader, and 
every man knows just what he’s to do in case of 
trouble. They have shovels a-plenty, and extra 
axes, saws, plows, and rakes. Then he keeps 
174 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 175 


three good teams in the coral all the time for 
fear they will need them. There is dynamite in 
the supply shed, and at every donkey engine and 
loader there are several barrels of water. The 
men are forbidden to smoke while at work in the 
woods, and everywhere about the camp are ‘ Safety 
First ^ signs tacked up. I noticed that everywhere 
it can be put is a warning of some kind. 

‘‘Even on the little packages of matches the 
men carry is a little saying about how one tree 
will make a million matches but one match can de- 
stroy a million trees. Some of the men have 
pocket whet stones with a warning printed on 
them, and in the bottom of every tin cup at the 
mess table is printed a ‘Safety First’ idea about 
fires. The men get it drilled into them morning, 
noon, and night, until it is a part of them. ’ ’ 

“Kable is a wise man,” replied Mr. Standish, 
thoughtfully. “We need many, many more such 
mill bosses. If we had them we wouldn’t have so 
many catastrophes. Just think, lads, — sixteen 
hundred fires in Idaho last year with a loss of over 
three hundred million feet of lumber. It isn’t 
only the lumber loss, though, that is important. 
Just think of the money it takes out of circulation, 
of the men it throws out of work, of the lives it 
endangers, and of the way it devastates the land. 
It takes a hundred years for burned areas to get 
on their feet again.” 


176 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


The boys went back to work more alert than 
ever, and even slept with one eye open, so anxious 
were they to be ready to spread the alarm in time. 
It was surprising how quick-witted and sharp- 
eyed this work was making them, and how in- 
quisitive they were growing about everything that 
had to do with the lumber operations. 

The busy, exciting, yet monotonous life of a 
mountain saw mill now occupied both Scouts ’ time 
from morning until night. There were dozens of 
little tasks for them to care for, and as the slash 
piles increased in extent it became more and more 
of a job to get over them carefully each day. 
Then, too, hardly a day went by now but that a 
small gang of men would have to be hurried to 
some part of the cut-over area to care for small 
fires, that, in large part at least, were caused by 
little carelessnesses on the part of the army of 
‘‘axmen,’’ ‘‘sawers,^’ ^ Hallers, ‘Hook-tenders,’’ 
and “rigging slingers” that were everywhere. 

It was perfectly marvelous to the boys how the 
great giants could be felled, sawed up and skidded 
into the track with such speed, for in certain parts 
the logs were literally massed in hundreds, wait- 
ing to be loaded with the gin pole and pulled down 
to the mill itself. 

Three times in one week the little force-pump 
and hose had to be brought into play to extinguish 
ground fires that threatened to get out from under 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 177 


control. It was very unusual that they had no 
rain, for notwithstanding two or three mountain 
showers there had been no real rainfall for weeks 
and the whole country was beginning to show it. 

‘‘Here come the Question Boxes!” laughingly 
spoke the foreman at the mill. ‘ ‘ Those boys know 
more about the ‘ifs’ and ‘ands^ of this lumber 
business now than a lot of these hands that have 
been doing nothing else all their lives. They just 
naturally want to know everything, — from what 
makes an apparently sound log hollow in the mid- 
dle, to what caused one place to be hard and an- 
other place soft in the same tree.” 

“Hello, Bill!” called the Scouts, as they came to 
the mill. ‘‘Say, what makes some of those big 
logs just check up at the center until they damage 
all the lumber, while others rot out at the center 
completely?” 

The head saw-master laughed as he spat on the 
ground, a merry twinkle in his eye. 

“You got me, kids, completely. Why does your 
mother keep pigs?” replied the foreman. 

“We’ll find out, you bet,” said Harry, friendly- 
like. “I’ll bet Mr. Kable will know, and if he 
doesn’t Old High will.” 

“Old High who?” questioned the mill man. 

“Old High Tucker, a friend of the Super- 
visor’s,” replied Harry. 

“So Old High’s over there, is he? Well, I’ll 


178 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


be derned! So thaUs where they have been hid- 
ing him. Trying to save him from that nosey 
Sheriff, eh? Well, he’ll get him yet. I’ll bet a 
donkey engine, cable and all. He’s the crazy old 
duffer that shot up Jacobus some little time ago, 
ain’t he?” 

‘‘No, sir, he isn’t the man,” said Harry, stoutly. 
“It was some one else.” 

“I don’t suppose you know nothing about it,” 
continued the mill hand, kindly. “It was just an- 
other verse to a long-standing scrap, I believe, and 
who can tell but what old Jacobus had it coming 
to him. Is Old High and this Luke something-or- 
other the same old duffer? — Been a regular bad 
actor in his day, so I’ve been told. Some one was 
telling me the other night he could cut and trim 
to perfection more trees in a day than any man 
that had ever been seen on the range.” 

“More than Jaycox, even?” questioned Harvey. 

“Yes, even more than Jay, and he’s some won- 
der. Say, did you ever see him dress a log? He 
goes at it like he just had exactly sixteen seconds 
to live by the alarm clock and had to cut all the 
rest of the trees in the world before the crack of 
doom. He’s a rip-snorter, there’s no getting 
around it — a regular ring-tailed lallapalooza, but 
he ain’t in it with this Old High Luke you speak 
of, leastways if you can believe what you hear.” 

“But High and Luke are two different men,” 
carefully explained Harry. “Luke was the tie- 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 179 


cutter, but Old High is a prospector and ex-Forest 
Eanger. He was badly hurt in an auto accident. 
That^s why he is at the cabin. You are mistaken 
about him, sir. He is as fine an old man as you 
ever met, and the Sheriff doesn’t want him. It’s 
just Old Luke’s remaining boy that he is after. 
Would you know him if you’d see him? We must 
be going now. Got to keep our eyes open for fires 
mighty closely these days. Wish it would rain 
about a week, don’t you?” 

‘‘Eain! With that pile of logs there to be 
sawed?” questioned the mill man. ‘‘Why, I 
should say not. Don’t want a drop until the last 
log on the job is turned to lumber and saw dust, 
then let her come ‘pitch-forks and nigger-babies’ 
as we used to say when I was a kid; but rain now? 
— no ! ’ ’ 

“Logs, logs,” said Harvey, as he let his gaze 
wander. “Why,- it seems to me there are enough 
cut and piled up here now to run the country a 
year, and yet there are hundreds of mills, you 
said, bigger than this one, cutting and cutting. 
What is going to become of these timber lands in 
a few years?” 

“Logs is right, boy; logs, and then some more. 
Say, did you know that if all the logs that are cut 
in this U. S. A. for one year should be piled on a 
trans-continental road in piles one hundred feet 
high they’d reach from New York City to Frisco? 


180 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


— Did you! And listen, boy, it takes careful cut- 
ting from a million acres annually to supply the 
railroads poles and ties alone. Pooh! all we cut 
here all Fall wouldn’t make a drop in the bucket. 
The world needs logs and plenty of them. I 
ain’t a ’worrying about what’s going to happen to 
them all. There’s plenty for now, and let the next 
generation get out and hatch up some substi- 
tutes.” 

‘‘Yes, but that isn’t conservation,” replied 
Harry, indignantly. “What if they don’t find 
suitable substitutes — ^what then? That is why 
there is a National Forest Service. That is why 
owners of great private tracts are employing 
foresters — to look out for the future, to fight loss 
and waste and insects and fires and ignorance. 
Why, trees are a crop, just like wheat and pota- 
toes, only they don’t ripen every year, only every 
hundred and fifty. I tell you, if I were Uncle 
Sam, you mill men couldn’t do as you are doing 
here on this cut — ^killing millions of young trees 
and littering up the fields simply awful. Wliy, the 
way you get out logs is like peeling an apple with 
the peelings an inch thick. Down in the cities 
folks pay enormous prices for wood, and here 
are millions of tons of it going to waste, no good 
to any one. You wouldn’t even stop to make ties 
from the tops if the law didn’t compel you to. 
W'hy, there are seven thousand ties piled in the 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 181 


clearing now, ready for sMpment, and there will 
be that many more. ’ ^ 

‘‘You are too scientific for me,’’ said the saw 
master, as he again turned to his work. 

The boys moved up the track and were soon in 
the heart of the cutting district. They paused to 
watch two powerful “fellers” as they rested on 
their ax-handles a moment. They were cutting 
the notch in a giant yellow pine, preparatory to 
felling the great tree with their saw. 

“I wonder if they can always make them fall 
just where they want them to?” asked Harry. 

“I suppose not,” said Harvey. “Let’s ask 
them how they work it.” 

In a second the question was put, and the cut- 
ters were glad to pause a moment and visit before 
beginning the tremendous exertion of sawing the 
great “veteran.” 

“Put ’em just where we please, boys,” said the 
one, jokingly. “Stand over yonder and we’ll fell 
this one right behind your ear like a big lead 
pencil.” 

“No, thanks!” said Harry, merrily. “But I 
think it is wonderful if you are able to put them 
where you want to. Won’t you explain it to us 
how you do it?” 

“Simple!” replied the first man. “It’s all in 
the notch. I can stick a stake in the ground and 
drive it out of sight with a falling trunk, any day. 


182 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 

I’ll prove it to you.” So taking his ax he cut a 
stout stake, stepped back fifty or sixty feet, care- 
fully surveyed the notch that they had been mak- 
ing, and then started the stake in the soft forest 
floor with his ax. 

The sawing began, the sharp ribbon of steel 
eating its way into the soft wood as if by magic. 
The boys were ordered to step back to a safe dis- 
tance, and before they realized it the great trunk 
gently vibrated, then tipped slightly in the direc- 
tion of the notch, then with a mighty swish and 
cracking of brittle branches the monai^ch fell, 
striking the stake squarely on the head and forc- 
ing it out of sight in the dirt. 

Great!” cried the boys. ‘‘You men are art- 
ists for sure ! But it makes me sick to see those 
big trees fall and be dragged about by a steel cable, 
just as if they were dead poles. I’ll bet that one 
was three hundred years old — just think of it! 
Older than Uncle Sam. And now all it’s good for 
is a few boards.” 

“Don’t you think it!” laughed one of the cut- 
ters. It’s good for flooring, and plank, and bridge 
timbers, and ship beams, and flag poles, and wagon 
beds, and car frames, and houses, and — and — oh, 
almost anything you can think of, boys. This 
whole blooming civilization we boast so much 
about is based and founded on trees like this one. 
They are what make the world go round. They 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 183 


are what Progress eat. So get rid of your cheap 
sentiment. If we did as some of these city chaps 
want us to, we would put all these great trees in 
a greenhouse and save ^em for party decorations. 
Trees make commerce, commerce makes money, 
and money is what makes the mare go. So get ep, 
Napoleon! It looks like rain and we have six or 
eight more such slivers to fell yet before that feed 
gong rattles.’’ The men were gathering their 
tools together to move on. 

‘‘Let’s count the annual rings,” said Harvey, 
“and see for ourselves. I’ll bet this tree is older 
than Jerusalem.” 

“Not so bad as that, but let’s see.” 

Soon they were busy counting with the point of 
their Scout knives. 

“Five hundred and eighty-one,” said Harry in 
great admiration. “What babies we are yet! 
All the grave stone this old fellow will ever get is 
that mammoth stump.” 

They circled the great slash piles, came down 
past where the donkey engines were tugging out 
their hearts on logs or lifting them to flat cars, 
then on past the great piles of ties where they 
were being stamped and pulled away with teams 
of horses ; on around the enormous slab piles, and 
back to the great lumber stacks, the bunk house 
and little office. 

Just as they reached the road leading to the 


184 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 

mill office, a gray-haired, wind-bronzed man, who 
sat his nervous mountain pony with perfect grace 
and ease, galloped by the lane, pulled in his reins, 
and hailed the boys. 

‘‘Howdy, lads. Where is Mr. Kable, can you 
tell me!^’ 

The boys both noted with interest the star he 
wore on his vest and knew at once they were talk- 
ing to the County Sheriff. 

“Yes, sir. He is out yonder on this side of the 
slab pile.” 

The Sheriff wheeled his pony in the direction 
indicated, and was gone. 

At that moment Jaycox rounded the end of the 
slab pile, ax in hand, caught sight of the rider, and 
instantly turned his back toward him, bent over, 
and began to chop, keeping one eye on the Sheriff 
without appearing to see him. 

The Sheriff pulled up directly in front of him. 
“I’m looking for Kable, my friend. Where is 
he?” 

“Other side of the pile,” said Jaycox, pointing 
with his thumb, “or at the office. I’ll call him for 
you.” 

“Needn’t mind, thank you. I’ll locate him.” 
And he rode on. 

He had hardly rounded the slab pile when Jay- 
cox became as alert as a squirrel. He climbed the 
pile and peered cautiously over. He could not 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 185 


see, but he could hear, and what he heard so inter- 
ested him that he deliberately stretched out flat 
on the pile and lay with his hand to his ear. 

‘‘Howdy! Kable. Great weather for a saw 
mill, eh? How much more are you going to cut 
in old Bald Knob ? Great logs, those. ’ ^ 

“Yes, Taylor, great; and things are moving so 
nicely we have made application for another five 
million feet. It’s here easily, and is ripe. It 
ought to be cut. That will run us clear into win- 
ter. Wish it would rain, though. Those con- 
founded slash piles are getting too big to suit me. 
If it would ever get afire in a wind it would wipe 
us out like flees.” 

“So it would; so it would,” said the Sheriff, 
absentmindedly. 

“So it would!” sneered Jaycox from his hiding 
place, “and — and — ^by the eternal gods, so it 
shall, if you are going to have such visitors often. 
That duffer is always butting in. He ’s after me. ’ ’ 

“Got a bit of business with you yourself, Ka- 
ble.” 

“That so? — Want to build a new jail, or 
something, Taylor? Can sell you a lot of choice 
culls cheap just now.” 

“Haw! haw! May need a new jail before I get 
through if it keeps on. I’ve got the old calaboose 
full now, tight, and all bad eggs, every one. But 
you see, as a matter of fact, I’m after a few more. 


186 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


We sheriffs are never satisfied. Yew see iUs like 
this a Vay. A little bird, with much tobacco spit- 
ting and a regular flood of cursing, informs me 
that the very man I want is in your camp.’’ 

Jaycox’s jaws tightened. ‘‘High has squealed 
on me!” he hissed. “Who else would know it? — 
Don’t suppose those Scout kids are next ! I’ll — ” 

“In my camp, eh? Well, that’s strange. You 
know blamed well, Taylor, I’d never hire a crook 
if I knowed it. But this time you are just nat- 
urally mistaken. I’ve had all these hands some 
time. Haven’t hired a new one since the mill was 
moved in.” 

“That so? Well, course I may have gotten on 
a fake trail. I’ve thought I knew where my man 
was for some time, but Standish declares I’m 
plumb off, that I must look again. His judgment 
is true as an automatic, too. I’m looking for 
Luke’s eldest boy. He is somewhere in these 
parts; has been recognized a time or two.” 

‘ ‘ Old Luke ’s kid ! ’ ’ cried Kable sternly. ‘ ‘ Tay- 
lor, you forget I am a cowman. You don’t think 
I’d ever hire a sheepman, do you? Not if I knew 
it, anyway.” 

“Never thought of that, Kable,” returned the 
Sheriff thoughtfully. “But perhaps he ’s here un^ 
der an assumed name of some kind. ’ ’ 

“Well, if he is, you are welcome to him, Taylor, 
that’s sure. All you got to do is to find him.” 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 187 


Jaycox^s face was distorted with hatred and his 
mighty shoulders worked nervously. ‘ ‘ So you are 
a cattle man, are youT’ he breathed. “Well, so 
much more the reason why I should get you. I’ll 
beat you at your little game, gents, both of you. 
Lord! what a fire she’U make!” But he was in- 
terrupted here by the conversation at the other 
side of the pile. 

“How do you propose to prove he’s here, Tay- 
lor?” 

“I want to stick around for supper and take a 
look. I believe I could identify the rascal if he’s 
here.” 

“You’re more than welcome. Stay a week if 
you like, if you can stand our diet.” 

“Say, Kable, you check your men at supper and 
see if they are all there. If my man is here, my 
presence in the camp may make him suspicious 
and he may lay out till I’m gone.” 

“A wise precaution, Taylor. I’ll divide them 
into their fire squads after mess and they can be 
checked up that way. ’ ’ 

“Good! Now I’ll take a little look around.” 
He turned and rode up the trail to where the men 
were rolling logs from the flat cars to the roll- 
ways. 

Jaycox noted with satisfaction that Kable went 
into the office. He rose to get down, just as 
Harry came out of the woods, and, because this 


188 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


same Jaycox had warned him only a day before 
to stay olf the slab piles because it was danger- 
ous, he wondered what the man could be doing 
there now himself. As he watched him he sud- 
denly became aware that the pile was falling, and 
he broke into a run. He found Jaycox spilled on 
the ground, cursing the air blue, while blood 
gushed from his nose. The pile had slipped and 
pitched the man on his face in the gravel. Al- 
ready his one eye was swelling shut and his lip 
swelling where his big front teeth had cut into 
it. 

‘‘Don’t tell ’em what happened, kid,” he 
growled. “They’d give me the ‘horse’ for a 
month. I ought to have known better. Tell ’em a 
log knocked me over.” 

At mess the boss ordered the fire gangs to- 
gether, and then took occasion to tell them once 
more of the increasing danger from fire, and 
urged them to hold themselves in readiness for 
any call, adding that some difficulty had arisen at 
the railroad and they were going to hold their 
lumber for a better price, so the extra need for 
special care. 

The Sheriff moved about from group to group, 
but found nothing that gave him a clew, and just 
as the men began to gather about the big circle 
where they usually sat about a fire to smoke and 
tell stories, he rode away into the darkness. Jay- 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 189 


cox watched them go, and then withdrew, sup- 
posedly to bathe his bruised countenance but in 
reality to think out his plan, for it was very evi- 
dent things were getting hot for him. 

The next day the Supervisor made a personal 
visit to the mill to see for himself about fire con- 
ditions, and before he left that night he decided 
it expedient to stretch a telephone line from well 
back in the cutting area to Mr. Standish’s cabin 
and from there to join the main line to headquar- 
ters. 

‘‘It may save hours, in case of trouble,’’ he said, 
“and with that enormous slash and slab pile I 
want to be ready for any emergency. If it does 
not rain soon the whole forest belt is going to be 
burned over. Hundreds of fires are now raging 
in the Sierras; whole towns have burned out in 
Wisconsin; Minnesota and Michigan have great 
tracts aflame, and every day we get more reports. 
The whole forest floor is as dry as tinder and as 
inflammable as powder. Kable, you ought to 
keep a night guard until it showers.” 

“Can’t sit up all night and work all day, Hast- 
ings, but I’ll do all that lies in my power.” 

The next day Harry and Harvey were sum- 
moned to help stretch a simple line through the 
valley over the ridges to Mr. Standish’s cabin, 
where it was hooked into the main line. Toney 
climbed the trees and cut the tops out of them. 


190 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


while Tompkins came after him, nailed on the in- 
sulators, and the boys helped work out the wire 
and aided the men in general. 

‘^Say, Scouts, you should have been with me 
yesterday, said Toney. 

The boys looked interested. 

‘‘Tell us about it, Toney. You didn’t see 
‘Courageous,’ did you?” 

“No. No such luck, boys, but I know you 
would have enjoyed being with me.” 

“What were you doing, Toney?” pled Harry. 

‘ ‘ I was planting spawn in all the headwaters on 
our watershed — millions of them.” 

“Planting spa^vn?” said both boys. 

“Yes, greenhorns! — Putting young trout in the 
streams. They were really fingerlings. I put 
two cans in East Beaver, two in Grass Valley, two 
in Little Fountain, one in Famine Creek, and four 
in Rock Creek.” 

“Why, do Foresters take care of the fishing, 
too ? ’ ’ asked Harry in astonishment. 

“Yes, always,” replied Toney. “We plant mil- 
lions of them every season and in that way keep 
the streams stocked. In three years they will be 
‘frys’ and ready for us to eat. They come from 
the State Fish Hatcheries and are supplied free 
for any stream that does not cross private prop- 
erty. All of these little streams teem with Uncle 
Sam’s trout cared for by the Foresters.” 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 191 


‘‘And you care for birds, and protect game, and 
plant fish, and fight insects ! Oh, my ! Oh, my ! 
I used to think a Forest Danger was a sort of a 
hero that rode about all day just having a good 
time. I didn’t know he cruised timber, built 
trails, sold logs, fought beetles, burned brush, and 
a million other things. I think it’s great. I want 
to do it all my life. I’m going to be a Forester, 
I tell you, and I want to be the very best and wis- 
est kind of a one.” 

‘ ‘ Here, too, ’ ’ chimed in Harvey. ‘ ‘ I want to be 
a Supervisor on a mountain forest. ’ ’ 

“Uncle Bob calls this sort of thing going to 
school,” chuckled Harvey. “I wish I didn’t ever 
have to go back to the other kind. But of course I 
must. A fellow has to go to school to amount to 
anything. ’ ’ 

It was full moon, and the clear, cool nights in 
the forest were wonderful to the boys. Even the 
tired woodsmen responded and lingered longer 
than was their wont about the little friendly fire, 
spinning yarns and taking in the rugged beauties 
of the night, one yarn leading to another. 

“This season would be a dandy for the old tim- 
ber pirates of a dozen years ago,” said one. 

“You bet I” said another. “There never was 
a slash pile in better shape for dirty work than 
that one of ours yonder.” 

“Good thing Peg-leg Jones hung long ago,” 


192 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


said another, ‘‘or he’d be looking for just such a 
chance. ’ ’ 

''Who was Peg-leg Jones?” begged Harry, who 
was just aching for a real yarn. 

"Peg-leg Jones!” replied the cutter in aston- 
ishment. "Didn’t you ever hear of Peg-leg? 
He was the slickest timber pirate the West has 
ever had.” 

"Tell us about him, please,” begged Harvey. 

"Well, there really isn’t much to tell, lad. He 
was an old dutfer with a wooden leg and set some 
of the worst forest fires the West has ever seen. 
I mind the last one he set — ^burned at least three 
hundred thousand acres clean of the finest timber 
in the world.” 

"How did he do it without being caught?'” 
asked Harry eagerly. 

"Easiest thing in the dictionary, lad. He’d ar- 
range a bit of slash just right so as to be sure to 
get his fire started on a good, dry floor, then he 
would set a burning glass so’s the sun would focus 
itself through it and light the little pile of needles ; 
hut long before the sun got around Peg-leg would 
be far away, making certain folks see him in a 
saloon or game parlor, so he could always prove 
an alibi. I suppose he’d be doing that little game 
yet if it hadn’t a ’been for his jaw.” 

"Why, what did his jaw have to do with it?” 
asked Harry innocently. 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 193 


‘‘Oh, thaUs easy,’’ laughed the cutter. “When 
he was off on one of his alibi trips once’t he got 
drunk and happy, and his jaw up and told a lot of 
onlookers all about his little game. When Peg- 
leg came to, — that is, sobered enough to be him- 
self, — he found himself out under a spreading Yel- 
low Western about to be strung up. He pled aw- 
ful hard for a chance, hut he had done so much 
dirt with his fires that they just naturally couldn’t 
resist punishing him.” 

“Snake Trotter’s game was a better one,” sug- 
gested an engineer. 

“How was that?” came from a dozen interested 
voices. Jaycox had joined the crowd now and 
sat listening. 

‘ ‘ Snake did the same sort of dirty work, only he 
used long-time fuse and powder. Set his fires in 
old, hollow, pitch-soaked logs and then left them. 
Sometimes it would take his fuse twelve hours to 
burn to the powder, and he would be fifty miles 
away when she lighted up. He used to use his 
little game to burn over forest for his sheep, and 
it worked, too. No one would ever have sus- 
pected Snake if he hadn’t been the heir of bad 
luck and got hlowed to pieces once. ’ ’ 

“How was that, Jim?” queried another one of 
the circle. “I have often heard of Snake Trot- 
ter’s fires hut never did know what sort of an end 
he came to.” 


194 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘Well, it seemed he planned a big fire and had 
everything set for it, — had a choice old pine hol- 
low. But some prospector beat him to it and had 
used the hollow tree for a storehouse to keep his 
supply of dynamite in. Snake’ lit his longtime 
fuse and left. Nothing happened. So, after a 
few days, he went back to investigate. He dis- 
covered his fuse had gone out and that the tree 
was loaded full of dynamite. He was delighted, 
and was busy re-setting his machine, using the dy- 
namite as a scatterer, when the prospector shows 
up, and not knowing what Snake was up to he took 
a shot at him, hit the dynamite, and — and now 
Snake is fertilizing the surrounding country. He 
left sudden T and he hain’t come back.’^ 

The men laughed in great good humor, all save 
Jaycox, and he was lost in thought. A great in- 
spiration had by some means found its way into 
his brain. He would do as Snake J^rotter had 
done, only he wouldnT use the dynamite. 

The next day was Sunday. Jaycox borrowed a 
horse from Kable to ride to town to consult a doc- 
tor about his sore eye, but in reality he went 
straight to High^s cabin on the mountain, secured 
a generous supply of mine fuse, a new box of dy- 
namite caps, a pair of pinchers to attach them to 
the fuse, and came back again with a small bottle 
of creek water from “Hr. Somebody’’ for his 
damaged eye. So far his plan was safe. 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 195 


He carefully hid the fuse in his bunk and then 
began to formulate his plans. He would begin 
stealing a little grub supply for future use — for 
use after the mill and land was black with deso- 
lation! He would bury it in the great pile of 
sawdust of which he was in charge. No fire would 
ever burn it out save over the top. Wlien all was 
destroyed he would build a little shelter well hid- 
den in the tangle of burnt and blackened logs, re- 
move his food there, and then go on a still hunt for 
the Sheriff. It all seemed possible. He could 
bring it to pass, and he knew it. The great pile 
of dry pitch slabs was the vulnerable point at the 
mill, and he could manage that. He would fire 
them, and he would wait until the wind blew hard. 
It had blown a good deal of late. His fuses and 
powder planted once, he could then wait for the 
proper condition before lighting them. He must 
not fail, for a fool would know the fire had been 
set, and if he dared bungle he would certainly be 
caught. 

Still no rain, and still more slash. Every day 
the Supervisor called to see if all was well. 
Every day the boys filled every water barrel, piled 
what brush they could together, and gathered all 
trash, such as papers, from the valley. Very 
often Kable investigated the tools, the force- 
pumps and the other equipment. He wasn’t 
sleeping well. He was getting nervous. The 


196 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


strain was telling on him. Daily came reports of 
awful devastations in the timl|er lands farther to 
the west of them. Every paper that reached the 
isolated camp was filled with wild headlines of 
‘ ‘ Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! ’ ’ 

Jaycox laid his plans carefully and well. His 
store of groceries had gotten to be quite sufficient 
for his stay, so he thought. He carefully hid a 
shovel and sharp ax in his sawdust cave. He bor- 
rowed all the matches he dared without arousing 
suspicion. Next came High’s old gun that he had 
hung high in a tree before asking for employment 
at the new mill of Kable. He had but six rounds 
of ammunition for it, and it must be saved for self- 
defense only, or for the Sheriff. So he carefully 
removed the gun and shells from their hiding and 
placed them along with his other treasures in the 
sawdust. 

Next he arranged his fuses and powder in the 
slab pile as occasion allowed, taking care to place 
next the fire only pitch-saturated slabs that would 
light easily, and once lighted would burn fiercely. 
Next came the fuses in the slash piles. The boys 
noticed him burying something in the slash, and 
when they questioned him about it he remarked, 
tersely, that he was fixing to trap a skunk. 

‘‘Are there many around? We haven’t seen 
one yet,” said Harry. 

“You know the day you saw me on the slab 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 197 


pileP’ questioned Jaycox, with a leer. ‘^Well, I 
was watching two of the biggest skunks Vve ever 
seen that day. They were visiting over behind 
the slab pile. I’ll get ’em both one of these 
days. ’ ’ But his real meaning was entirely lost on 
the Scouts. 

The last arrangement was made, and still no 
rain. In fact, a hot breeze had been blowing for 
several days, and Tompkins, Toney, Uncle Bob, 
and every man they could persuade to work, were 
busy caring for the little tires all over the De- 
serve. Every camper, of which there were many, 
because of the warm, dry weather, was watched 
carefully and urged to take every precaution. No 
one anywhere — settlers, miners, or campers, were 
allowed to build open fires without first getting a 
permit. 

The Supervisor was stern, positive, and de- 
termined. Toney, Tompkins, and Uncle Bob were 
tired, almost to the breaking point, and sore in 
foot, limb, and arm. 

High sat impatiently on the porch of the cabin, 
unable to take a hand, dreaming big dreams and 
turning strange thoughts in his mind. Three 
times the Sheriff had come to him, and by one 
way or another tried to induce him to talk, but 
he had remembered Tompkins’ advice and kept 
still. Soon he would be well, and often he won- 
dered if there would be any opposition to his going 


198 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


back to his mine. He must ask Bob Standish at 
his first opportunity. 

The boys were home for dinner the following 
Sunday, and in spite of Aunt Belle’s efforts the 
talk would go back to forest fires. 

‘‘We’re all right, and reasonably safe as long 
as we get no high winds,” Tompkins was saying, 
“for a fire’s real destructive power depends on 
the wind. They can’t ever travel against it ex- 
cept in going up a steep hill, and then it isn’t 
likely to do much damage. But what bothers me 
most is that the prevailing winds are from the 
slash piles toward the mill. I tell you, boys, if 
that great dry pile of skeletons ever gets afire in 
a high wind, nothing on this earth — not all we 
know about fighting fires — ^will avail. That entire 
camp will be cleaned out clean.” 

“In fighting fires, then,” said Harry, “the very 
first thing to take into consideration is the wind 1 ’ ’ 

“Correct,” replied Uncle Bob; “and not only 
at the start but all the time. I have known the 
wind a number of times to completely change dur- 
ing a fire and drive the intense heat and smoke 
suddenly down upon the fire-fighters, nearly suf- 
focating them. Of course, when it does so it in- 
variably burns itself out, and that is some reward. 

“Three things to remember, boys, constantly: 
The best time to fight a fire is at the beginning. 
A delay of even a very few minutes may make it 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 199 


impossible' to win, for a forest fire in a fair wind 
gathers headway very rapidly and becomes a 
raging beast. 

‘‘If the ground is thickly covered with leaves 
and needles, the fire will probably be a ground 
fire and not burn very fast. Get ahead of it and 
rake a strip clean of dry material, raking it back 
to the fire. The best tool for such a job is a four- 
tined pitch fork. If loose ground or sand is 
available, it is excellent to spread a strip of it 
along in front of the fire. 

“If the fire is in timber where there are dead 
trees and slash, it will nearly always change to 
a top fire. That^s when the foliage, dead limbs 
and dry bark burn. These are hard to fight and 
very uncertain, for they usually burn on the forest 
floor too. The most effective way to fight them is 
by back-firing. Of course a rain or change of 
wind may come to your rescue, but you canT 
count on them. 

“A back-fire is made by starting another fire 
some distance ahead of the principal one. The 
back-fire must be allowed to burn only against 
the wind and toward the main fire, so that when 
the two meet they will burn out. To prevent a 
back-fire from moving with the wind, it should 
always be started on the windward side of a road 
or raked strip, or some other natural barrier. 

“I’m glad Kable has kept the mill ground 


200 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


cleared up well, and even in case of a slash fire, 
with the stream at hand, and if fire could be kept 
out of that slab pile, the mill and camp might be 
saved. Vll be the happiest man alive when that 
will is gone and we once get that slash cared for. 
Whatever you do, boys, keep your head and don’t 
let so much fire talk get on your nerves. I don’t 
believe we are going to have any trouble at all, 
for Kable is a wise and careful man and a good 
leader. ’ ’ 

Three days later Kable was called to the city 
on business. He was loath to leave, but Bob 
agreed to keep close until he should get back, and 
so he left easier. 

The second day it clouded and looked more like 
rain than it had for months. There was much 
thunder and lightning, and everybody fully ex- 
pected to see a heavy shower, and oh, what a 
relief it would bring to the parched air and ground. 
The stream had gotten so low a dam had to be 
built in order to insure water for engines and table 
use. 

At supper time the wind was blowing a good, 
stitf breeze, and the entire camp went to bed early, 
confident of a real rain. However, about mid- 
night the clouds broke, the stars came out faintly 
and the storm clouds melted. Not so the wind, 
however. For hours Jaycox had lain awake — 
watchful, waiting. His bunk was still in the end 


SCOUT DUTY AT PINE CONE CAMP 201 


of the engine house, where it had been put when 
he had been hurt and he had been changed to 
night fireman duty. 

He arose, dressed himself, went to the door and 
cautiously peered out. All was still. A second 
later he was swallowed up in the long, black 
shadows of the slab pile. Then he skitted like a 
rabbit from point to point, staying only long 
enough to make sure the fire was lit, and then 
finally, wild with excitement, his powerful muscles 
quivering, he slipped back, hurriedly undressed 
and climbed into his bunk. 


CHAPTEE IX 


A SEA OF FLAME 

‘ HE ’LL bum like a dry prairie to-nigbt !” 
said Jaycox, half aloud, to himself, as he 
tried to settle down and patiently wait 
for the fury he had created. 

With the breaking of the clouds the wind had 
increased noticeably and it had grown colder. 
Far to the south the sharp lightning cracked and 
the long, heavy peals of thunder echoed and re- 
echoed among the hills, like a mighty hidden tom- 
tom. The fly on the canvas cook-tent flapped a 
steady and violent tattoo. The rambling bunk- 
house vibrated in the wind. The double guy wires 
of the high smokestack sang a weird rattling song 
as the wind clanged the two taut strands together 
with every fresh gust. 

Both Scouts stirred uneasily. Their sleep was 
not sound, yet, because they were so entirely 
weary from the strenuous day in the slash, they 
slept on. 

To Jaycox, seconds seemed hours as he waited 
impatiently for some alarm that would justify his 
dressing and getting out into the open. At last 
he sat erect in bed and whiffed the air as eagerly 

as a mother deer whiffs it for danger before ven- 
202 


A SEA OF FLAME 


203 


turing out. Evidently lie was satisfied, for un- 
mistakably he smelled the pungent smoke of burn- 
ing pine slash. 

‘‘She burns he breathed again, with great 
relief. He then pulled his rough blanket over his 
head as if to hide himself from an imaginary re- 
proving forest about to be consumed by a fiendish 
gale. He could see already in his mind’s eye the 
awful desolation — acres upon acres of mighty 
blackened trunks standing where they had per- 
ished. He already imagined the entire slash pile 
one glimmering, glowing sheet of flame with a 
veritable milky-way of hungry sparks being driven 
into new territory by the gale. He could even 
now hear the fire front as it went roaring through 
the thick second growth of lodge pole just up the 
valley. 

There was a savage leer on his face as he lay 
there entertained by a thousand wild imaginings 
— waiting, waiting for some alarm to be sounded. 
He felt certain that if it didn’t come soon he 
would be compelled to flee into the woods for ac- 
tion, for every nerve and every muscle was afire 
and demanding expression. He had not long to 
wait, for just then a fresh gale swirled down the 
clearing and caught the smoke stack squarely. 
A pair of guy wires that had rubbed and rubbed on 
their anchor unnoticed, snapped. The tall, sooty 
pipe leaned slightly toward the bunk-house and 


204 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


then suddenly hurled itself headlong across the 
roof of the squatted building with a terrific rat- 
tle, that sounded to the rudely awakened lumber- 
jacks like the world had suddenly crashed to 
pieces. With many a savage curse they sprang 
out of bed, wild eyed and excited, to determine 
from which quarter came the disturbance and to 
severely punish the offender. 

The night was red, the air was foul with pine 
smoke, the wind was cold, while tattered yellow 
flames rolled and tumbled everywhere. 

‘^Fire!’’ cried the first man to reach the door. 
‘‘Fire!’’ called the man behind him, and in a 
second the wild cry was heard through the camp. 

Harry awoke with a start. Was he dreaming? 
— “Fire! Fire! The slash’s a-fire!” he heard, 
and without realizing how he got there he was at 
the door of his crude shanty, shivering in the 
cold. The heavens were completely filled with a 
riot of flame and smoke, while ashes were falling 
like snow. Harvey stood at his side now, terri- 
fied, with a heavy depressing feeling about his 
heart. The slash he had watched so carefully day 
in and day out was afire. He had failed again, 
and he had been so careful. A great sob broke 
from his lips as he stared at the rolling clouds of 
gray-green smoke. He saw the men pouring from 
the bunk-house, half clad, with their remaining 
clothes under their arms. He heard wild shouts 


A SEA OF FLAME 


205 


and disjointed orders coming from everywhere. 
He realized for the first time that Mr. Kable was 
gone — the great, fearful fire had come, and they 
had no leader of authority ! 

In a second both boys were hurrying into their 
simple clothing. They said not a word until 
Harry started for the office. 

Where are you going! cried Harvey. 

‘‘To the office to telephone’^ — and he was gone. 

In vain he tried to arouse some one at the 
Standish cabin. It was useless. Finally it 
dawned upon him that the instrument was dead. 
Harvey entered and demanded why he was stay- 
ing so long. 

“Wire’s dead!” was the reply. 

“Course,” said Harvey, laconically. “The 
stack blew down and snapped the wires just out- 
side the office. I knew that three minutes ago.” 

“What shall we do! It’s one o’clock.” 

“It’s just three miles to Uncle Bob’s,” said 
Harvey. “One of us has got to go afoot. The 
gangs are getting organized, the teams are already 
hitched, the men have two pumps going on the 
lumber, but they need a leader out in the timber. 
I suppose the saw master can boss the mill and 
lumber yards all right, but what about that fire 
when it gets onto the Eeserve! WIio is going to 
say when to get the back-fires up the vaUey 
started! Oh, for Uncle Bob!’^ 


206 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘H’ll goV^ cried Harry. can make it in 
twenty minutes.’^ He darted through the door 
and was off, his eager body alert in every nerve. 
It was now that the Scout pace stood him in good 
stead. He settled into it easily, and while he was 
making excellent time over the needle-strewn trail, 
he was at the same time saving his best for the last 
stretch or for an emergency. Slowly he climbed 
the ridge. Once at the top, the rest would be 
easy. His body was in perfect trim, his muscles, 
while not large, were wiry, and there was not an 
ounce of superfluous flesh on his body. The alti- 
tude made some difference to his endurance, of 
course, but at least in part this was overcome by 
his absorbing eagerness to make time. 

At the summit where the trail crossed over the 
range he paused just a second to look back into 
Bald Knob Valley. The sight that met his eyes 
was in that instant stamped on his memory in an 
indelible fashion. He was sure that to his dying 
day he could close his eyes and see that wonder- 
ful scene just as vividly as he saw it then. Mas- 
sive, magnificent smoke clouds rose and floated 
away in the darlmess, tinged with every delicate 
shade he had ever seen. Short-lived whirlwinds 
of scarlet flame circled skyward as if hurled from 
the mouth of a massive cannon, only to bum them- 
selves out and become lost in the gathering smoke. 
The entire forest seemed to be alight with weird, 



Whirlwinds of scarlet flame circled skyward as if 
hurled from the mouth of a massive cannon. (Page 206.) 





A SEA OF FLAME 


207 


glimmering sheets of light. Every few seconds 
a rolling mass of gas would explode and light the 
sky with green and lavender and old rose. 
Through the slash it raged, its fiery wings out- 
stretched, while here and there a great dead pine 
burned at the top like a mammoth candle set in a 
sea of foamy clouds. 

He was gone again, down hill now, every muscle 
responding to his will. In a few moments more 
he swung wide the rustic gate, dashed up to the 
porch and pounded fiercely on the cabin door. 
Bob hastened to open it. Harry — ^hatless, coat- 
less, stumbled in, crying, ‘^Fire! Fire! Uncle, 
the slash is a-fire ! The mill, the lumber, the slabs 
— the world is a-fire, burning, burning — ’’ He 
sank on the floor exhausted. 

Bob gathered the lad in his arms and laid him 
on the couch, as he called for Aunt Belle and 
Tompkins. Soon a cool drink and a bit of water 
dashed into his burning face brought him back. 

‘^Why didn^t you ’phone U’ ordered Mr. Stan- 
dish. 

‘‘Line’s down,” sobbed Harry. “Stack blew 
over and snapped them off. Come, quick ! They 
need a leader out in the valley. Plenty of bosses 
at camp, but nobody to direct the big fight. Come, 
we must go.” 

Just then High put in his appearance, hobbling 
in on his cane. 


208 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘High, do you suppose you could saddle up, 
while I get the Supervisor on the wire? — ^Yes, 
four horses. You better go with us, for you could 
carry orders. We will need every available man. 
Hear that gale, and Bald Knob Valley a-fire!’’ 

“Hello — ^Bob — yes. Bald Knob’s a-fire — mill, 
slash, lumber, all. Kable at Mountain City. 
Come, quick. Yes, every available man. Better 
telegraph for more men before you start. If the 
gale keeps up it will last a week. It means the 
entire valley a-fire by daylight unless the wind 
goes down. Plenty of dynamite at the mill. Yes, 
plenty of tools. Cabin safe unless wind changes. ’ ’ 

Mr. Standish hurriedly got out three canteens 
from the corner, filled each with fresh water, 
stuffed a few first aid packets into his pocket, got 
gloves for High and Harry, and together they 
hastened out to the bam. High hobbling clumsily 
on his cane. 

“Hitch up the spring wagon. Belle. Load all 
the cruise books, papers and provisions, and what 
else you think wise, and be ready to move. You 
are reasonably safe. Don’t believe the fire can 
jump the fire balk on the ridge, but if she does, 
don’t hesitate. We have talked it all out often 
enough for you to know what to do. I can trust 
you. Good-by!” And they were gone. 

The gangs had gotten quickly into action as best 
they knew after the first few moments of surprise, 


A SEA OF FLAME 


209 


and already the two force-pumps were pouring 
their tiny streams over the huge piles of freshly 
sawed lumber that stood in the clearing. The 
logging engine had gotten up steam, with the aid 
of a generous amount of oil, and was just prepar- 
ing to run back into the deep woods. So far, the 
fire was all on the south of the track and an at- 
tempt would be made to keep it from jumping the 
track onto the other side. There were shovels, 
and rakes, and axes, and plenty of dynamite. 

Every single man was alive to the real situ- 
ation, and was a strange combination of the dare- 
devil spirit of a seasoned woodsman balanced with 
absolute fearlessness and good judgment. If that 
old mill could ever be saved, it would be saved 
with such a gang of men if they just had a leader. 
The fight was on, yet how puny a few handfuls of 
men to fight such a monster ! 

Jaycox stood close to the side of the excited 
saw-master. His body was tense, his jaw set and 
determined. He must divert any possible sus- 
picion from himself by fighting his best and by 
attracting attention to his etforts to save the mill. 
Evidently the saw-master believed his job was to 
stay by the mill and look out for the oflSce and 
records, for suddenly he turned to Jaycox and 
ordered him to bury Kable’s office effects, books, 
papers, money and all, safely and at once. 

A few moments later, Mr. Standish, Tompkins, 


210 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


High and the Scout dashed up to the mill and 
asked for the saw-master. 

‘‘DonT know how it started/’ he answered, in 
reply to the Eanger’s first question. ‘Ht had 
great headway before we were awakened. You 
take charge, Standish, for this is an old game to 
you. We are all at your service. 

“Might have been burned alive in that rat trap 
if this stack hadn’t gone over. Don’t know what 
struck it, perhaps lightning. It is evident she 
started well back at the end of the slash. It was 
either lightning, or friction, or — ” he stopped 
short, “or some devil. She spread fast. She was 
one sheet of flame when I got out, yes, slash, slabs, 
and all.” 

Bob took in the situation almost at a glance, 
and was satisfied in his own mind at once that the 
fire had been set; yet he said nothing. 

‘ ^ High, go to the trail-head and await the 
Supervisor and his party, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ They ought 
to be here in less than an hour. Tell them I have 
the gangs all out, all organized and doing their 
best. The fight is to be on the log road and on 
north. I can see that much anyway. Tell him if 
things are not moving to suit him to send us 
orders. As long as you stay on Bess you are all 
right. She is seasoned to the core. She won’t 
shy or fright, and will ride right into the flame 
if need be. Whatever you do, don’t dismount. 


A SEA OF FLAME 


211 


You might lose her, and then you would be help- 
less with that crippled leg. Eememher, stay 
mounted. 

‘‘Scouts, you are to he the hospital. Here — ’’ 
and he emptied his pockets of first aid stuff. ‘ ‘ It 
won’t be long until some one will be getting hurt. 
Trees are beginning to fall. Be prepared. Get 
water and a cot or two. Keep near the stream as 
possible, and keep your eyes open. But mind 
what I say, don’t go into the burning area. If 
you should get confused, you’re lost. Watch the 
wind and use your head.” 

He was off at a wild gallop, and was soon swal- 
lowed up in the dense smoke that the wind kept 
blowing down the valley. 

The boys had just completed their temporary 
hospital and were going over to the office when 
they met Jaycox coming out of it, his arms loaded 
down with books and papers, preparatory to bury- 
ing them for safety. He did not notice the boys at 
first, but in hurrying on caught his foot on a stray 
slab and fell sprawling. Letters and papers flew 
in every direction and there was a wild scramble, 
the Scouts helping to gather them in before the 
wind got them. Jaycox held tight to the little 
tin box in which Kable kept his money. Soon 
they were packed in a box, dropped into a hastily 
dug pit and a couple of feet of earth piled over 
them. J aycox then stuck his shovel in the ground 


212 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


— ‘ ‘ to mark the spot in case it would be hard to lo- 
cate afterwards/’ he told the Scouts, hut in realitj 
the thought that was in his mind was to mark it 
so that he could come back for the money when 
all was over. 

Under the direction of Mr. Standish the gangs 
toiled on. He was here, and there, and every- 
where, giving his orders along the track. Back- 
fires were set and gave promise of solving the 
problems. Three of the best teams were sent 
ahead to the north along a sandy ridge to plow a 
fire-balk in order to hem in the fire on the north. 
A big gang were already cutting a path to the west 
to try to keep the fire from the immense piles of 
logs that had not yet been moved to the mill. 
Dynamite was used extensively to blow up trees 
too big to stop to cut, while every effort was being 
made to reduce the fire from a top-fire to a 
ground-fire where it could be fought the better 
with fresh earth and hand tools. 

Still the fiery avalanche swept on. The pall of 
smoke crept over the whole valley, and gas, that 
was now being generated in huge quantities, suf- 
focated the men and reduced their effectiveness. 
Everywhere the wind was laden with sparks and 
shreds of burning bark. Once the main fire front 
crossed the slash area and got into the virgin tim- 
ber it became a roaring hurricane of fire. The 
men were beaten back like insects and were com- 


A SEA OF FLAME 


213 


pelled to go to the next ridge and start all over 
again. Many of them worked mechanically. 
Their feet were blistered and their hands and 
faces burned painfully, yet they toiled on dog- 
gedly, determinedly, to win. 

Twice big raw-boned J aycox came hurrying out 
of the forest toward the boys with a collapsed 
lumberman in his huge arms, deposited his load 
at the makeshift hospital, and then disappeared 
again, only to re-appear with a lifeless form. A 
falling lodge pole had struck him full and he was 
gone — ^killed doing his duty, with no one to applaud 
his bravery. 

The Scouts were filled with awe. Never before 
in their lives had they felt so small or so insig- 
nificant. Never before had they realized the aw- 
ful power of Nature loosed in the wild. They 
were destined to grow older that night and wiser 
in many ways for boys. 

As Jaycox deposited his dead burden, he said, 
between great breaths, ‘‘There is another feller 
badly hurt in yonder, but I must take orders to 
Mr. Standish. You boys could get him. I’ll 
bring him to the edge. Make a litter. You can 
carry him. It’s little Jean, the cook.” 

There was no refusing such an appeal. They 
must go, for Jean had been their best friend, and 
anyway it was just to the edge of the timber. 
Like lightning they had a stretcher made from a 


214 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


light folding cot and were otf following Jaycox, 
forgetting, for the instant, their orders from their 
Uncle Bob. 

They had hardly disappeared in the dense 
smoke when the Supervisor, Tompkins, Toney, 
and a half dozen other men dashed into camp on 
heaving, panting horses. The Supervisor looked 
about eagerly for some one from whom he could 
get what information he needed. No one was in 
sight, and they were just about to take the North 
road when Jaycox came out of the smoke curtain 
and deposited another victim on the ground, ap- 
parently without noticing the new party. 

‘‘Where’s StandishU’ demanded Hastings. 
Jaycox waved his hand to take in the whole fire. 
“There,” he said, “fighting.” 

“Where are the two boys, do you know!” de- 
manded Toney, who had been thinking of them all 
the way over the ridge. 

“Gone to get a dead Frenchman,” growled Jay- 
cox, impatient to be off. “They went over yon- 
der a few minutes ago.” 

“In that sea of flame! — those boys?” demanded 
Toney, incredulously. ‘ ‘ Did you tell them to go ? ” 

Jaycox only shrugged his shoulders and turned 
to go, but Tompkins quickly reined in his horse 
and blocked him. His big Colt was held firmly 
in one hand. There was a determined gleam in 
his gray eyes. He had been thinking fast as he 


A SEA OF FLAME 


215 


rode to the fire that night, and had been turning 
in his mind what the Sheriff had told him about 
his visit to the saw mill a week before. He had 
been wondering all the way over if Luke’s boy 
could be in that camp. He was positive of just 
one thing: if he was there, it was he that lighted 
that slash. The instant he saw Jaycox in that 
weird half-light of burning trees he noted the 
likeness. Almost instantly a train of ideas linked 
themselves together in his mind and brought him 
to a conviction. 

‘‘You are Old Luke’s boy!” he shouted, fiercely. 
‘ ‘ This fire is your work. Throw up your hands ! 
At last I have you ! ’ ’ 

There was a snarl, like that of a wild animal at 
bay, great billows of black smoke enveloped them, 
and for a fleeting second all sight was blotted out. 
Tompkins reached for his man. There was a sud- 
den burst of red, a wild whirlwind of hungry 
flame, and the end of the bunk-house blazed afire. 

“See!” cried Jaycox. “There are the Scouts. 
One is hurt.” All hands turned to look. Jaycox 
was gone. He dodged behind the slab pile, leaped 
between the engine house and the kitchen, lay 
down and rolled to the bunk-house, and was lost 
from view. Tompkins fired three rapid shots, 
but to no avail. Jaycox was gone. His clever 
stall had saved his life, for the Scouts were no- 
where in sight. 


216 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘That was the man who stole my gun from my 
cabin and brought me the bear meat,^’ said Old 
High, excitedly. 

“And who killed Jacobus!” said Tompkins, 
savagely. “And he has been in this mill, under 
our very noses, for two months. That Sheriff is 
a fool. Said he was here and couldn’t find his 
man.” 

One of the injured men, who had been watch- 
ing the whole scene, now spoke up. “Better hunt 
those boys, or you’ll never see them again. They 
went yonder to get an injured man. ’ ’ 

“High, see if you can locate them. Tell them 
to come out at once, ho matter what they are at. 
Tompkins, skirt south with Toney and head off 
that desperado. He isn’t armed this time, fortu- 
nately, and won’t be to-night. Shoot on sight, 
shoot to kill. Forward, men, we will take the 
North road.” 

The little party split to obey orders. High rode 
into the heavy smoke, past piles of slash twenty 
feet high that had not as yet gotten a ’fire. He 
worked his way toward the outskirts of the fire 
that was just dimly visible ahead. It was burn- 
ing due north, that was plain to be seen, and it 
had already crossed the log road and was eating 
its way up the other slope. He could hear above 
the hiss of flame the occasional thud of exploding 
dynamite, and he knew full well just what was 


A SEA OF FLAME 


217 


going on. They were working the north ridge of 
Bald Knob in an effort to keep the fire in the val- 
ley. Unless the wind changed, the mill and the 
lumber were going to be safe, but all else would be 
swept clear. 

He stopped, and called and called. Once he 
thought he heard a faint reply. He followed it 
up, but the wind was so gusty and variable that 
he was not sure. His little mare quivered with 
excitement, and pawed the ground to be off. Sud- 
denly a great pine that had been saturated with 
pitch and that stood near the edge of the fire ex- 
ploded with a lurid glare and sent a pink flame 
high into the air. He caught just one glimpse of 
a youthful figure bending over a prostrate form. 
He urged Bess into the smoke and heat, and a 
moment later came to Harry kneeling over the 
form of his twin brother, sobbing and begging the 
lad to answer him. By their side lay the make- 
shift litter, and on it lay Jean, the camp cook, ap- 
parently dead. 

Harry looked up at High, but so dazed was he 
that he failed to recognize him at all. High took 
in the situation at a glance. Harvey had been 
overcome with his burden and Harry would not 
leave him and could not carry him. The boy was 
sobbing out his heart, and begged High to take his 
brother and leave him to come on with Jean. High 
thought just a second. He had already made up 


218 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


his mind what to do in regard to himself, but how 
to save Jean, too, was the problem. He only too 
well realized that the instant he gave up his sad- 
dle, like as not he would be helpless ; for, although 
his broken leg had healed after a fashion, he was 
a hopeless cripple and could not stand but a few 
steps without his crutch or a cane. 

However, he slid out of the saddle, helped Harry 
mount, then leaning over he picked Harvey up 
with great effort and placed him in front of Harry, 
gave him careful direction, and told him to go as 
fast as he could, keep his brother in place, to dis- 
mount, get help, if possible, and to return with 
the horse for Jean and himself. Harry was off 
with him, of course, no thought but that he would 
get back at once to High and the body they had 
fought so valiantly to save from the Fire Fiend. 

Three moments afterward the wind changed to 
straight down the valley. The hot ashes flew in 
showers, and everywhere little flres were starting. 
The heat was intense, the smoke was awful. In- 
stantly High realized that his only chance lay in 
his being able to crawl to safety. He could not 
walk a dozen steps without his cane, he was cer- 
tain. There was nothing else to do but to desert 
Jean. It was a matter of his own safety now. 
So he started forward. The Are was in the tops 
now, sixty feet above him. The wind was a gale: 
He struggled on and on, blindly, fiercely, — a man 


A SEA OF FLAME 


219 


fighting the elements for his life. But Old High 
was not destined to win. He died fighting. He 
had given his life for his friends, and he was 
satisfied, for he knew that at last his name was 
clear of dishonor. Tompkins and the Scouts 
would take care of that. 

They found his charred bones several days 
later, after a gushing rain had put a stop to the 
fire monster, pinioned beneath a great limb that 
had fallen on him from above as he endeavored 
to worm his way to safety. 

All night long the men toiled and toiled, back- 
fired, plowed, and blasted, but every hour saw the 
hungry monster more powerful. The wind swept 
down the valley and defeated every plan. The 
bunk-house burned like a packing box. The mill 
went next, and then came the great pile of newly 
sawn lumber and ties. It was all swept clean to 
the black bare rock. 

Tompkins had returned after a fruitless search 
for Jaycox, savage to think he had let the scoun- 
drel get away alive. He found the boys in bad 
shape and the wounded men in danger of being 
burned alive. Alone and single-handed he moved 
them to a place of safety, Harry begging and en- 
treating him all the while to go to High’s rescue, 
but he had to refuse. There would be absolutely 
no use of risking his life also in that awful sea 
of flame. 


220 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


‘Ht would be wildest folly, lad. It would be 
simple suicide. We must just trust that High was 
able to save himself. If we never see him again, 
boys, we will know he died a brave man. If he 
does not return by daylight, we dl know he died the 
unselfish old man that I have always said he was. 

‘^With the wind carrying clouds of deadly 
vapors on wings of fiery gales,” continued Tomp- 
kins, ^‘such as are now raging in yonder slash 
piles, no living thing could possibly survive it. 
I’d give my right arm for just one good shot at 
that fiend incarnate — Jaycox. I’m afraid I’ve 
bungled this game terribly. ’ ’ 

‘‘And our desperado is gone again! — And 
I’ve been talking to him every day ! I knew it was 
he, but couldn’t believe it. ‘Courageous’ recog- 
nized him and tried to tell us all, but we couldn’t 
understand. Oh, what will Mr. Hastings say 
about this, anyway?” cried Harry. 

“He’ll simply storm when he knows the truth,” 
said Tompkins, as he rode off again to do what 
he could with the fire. 

The back-fire from the ridge crept slowly down 
till it met the oncoming flames. They met with a 
hiss, and in an hour the fire was safe from that 
quarter. At the end of the valley the back-fire 
had slipped control and was in danger of frus- 
trating all they had accomplished on the ridge. 
On it come — a seething gale of flame, sweeping 


A SEA OP FLAME 


221 


everything before it, wiping the ground clean as 
a new-swept floor except for the huge stumps here 
and there, that would stand to tell to the next 
generation of the awful devastations. 

From the slab pile the fire had gotten into the 
next valley south, where stood the new virgin 
timber of the second tract that had not yet been 
touched beyond the cruising and marking. Down 
the valley it went, a roaring mass of flame-ridden 
trees that formed fiery pillars from the ground 
to their crowns, the heavens alight with the glare 
of burning tinder and dry hark, the air saturated 
with clouds of sutfocating gas-capped smoke, the 
howl of the wind, the crash of falling trees, the 
oceans of living sparks that soared and flew ahead 
of the fire-front, — all made a scene that was 
enough to terrify the stoutest heart that ever 
fought a forest fire. 

Then things changed. The gale died down. 
The first gray streaks of dawn could he seen in the 
east. The wind grew damp. First, came a gen- 
tle mist, then a fog, and finally a soft rain that 
increased until it became a downpour. Oh, what 
a relief to the tired, worn men on the ridges. 
What a sound of sizzling and snapping as the wet 
drops pelted the hot logs and stumps, turning in- 
stantly to steam. 

A party had gone ahead, under the Supervisor's 
personal direction, to the mouth of the Famine 


222 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


Valley, where they had carefully set a third back- 
fire, and by the time the rain was at its height 
the two colunms of fire had met and were burning 
themselves out. 

The valley was a graveyard with nothing left 
but thousands of blackened stubs and parched 
open spaces. The mill, the lumber, the slabs, all 
had vanished in a single night, and daylight found 
the most weary and most discouraged group of 
men the sun had ever shown upon. They had lost 
everything they owned, had whipped in a terrible 
fight, and, what was of far more consequence to 
them, they had lost work. In a single night a 
winter ^s steady employment had been snatched 
from their very hands. Their incomes had 
stopped. Work was slack, and there were women 
and kiddies that must be fed and clothed until 
spring. 

They stood about the tiny stream talking mat- 
ters over, as they bathed their tired feet and 
cooled their burned faces, and wished for their 
boss, Kable. They had been advised that he was 
on the way with money and wished to see them 
all. Twice Tompkins had been about to tell the 
crowd what he knew, but refrained him to keep 
still. No doubt he had reasons for the silence. 

There were a thousand ideas expressed as to 
causes. There were a thousand minute explana- 


A SEA OF FLAME 


223 


tions for the affair, but none were satisfactory. 
The men were carefully counted and checked into 
fire gangs, and all were accounted for but High 
Tucker, Jean, the French cook, and Jaycox. 

When Harry, with streams of tears running 
down his face, told that weary, exhausted group 
of mountaineers the simple story of how High 
Tucker had given his own life for the Scouts there 
wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, and to a man they 
doffed their hats (those that had not lost them in 
the night) and gave a great shout for the grand 
old Prospector. Next came a shout for little 
Jean, the cook, that had died doing his duty. But 
when it came to a discussion of Jaycox there was 
a difference of opinion. Yet, when some one of 
the men that he had rescued from a fiery grave 
suggested a rah for him, too, Tompkins deftly di- 
verted it by suggesting that there was no proof 
yet that he was dead, and that if they were going 
to laud living heroes, every man in the camp had 
one coming. 

There was much gloom at the Standish cabin 
that day. Especially was Tompkins nervous and 
miserable, and every comment that he voiced 
showed how he blamed himself for letting Jaycox 
get away; but the truth had dawned upon him 
so quickly that he had not had time to think or 
plan. He was for organizing a posse at once. 


224 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


offering a reward for the scalawag, and going 
after Jaycox hard, but the Supervisor had ideas 
of his own and refused to grant permission. 

In Harvey’s pocket was found a letter sealed, 
but not addressed. All that he could remember 
was that he had picked it up after he saw Jaycox 
bury the office papers, and thinking it was one that 
had blown away he had put it in his pocket me- 
chanically and had forgotten it until now. 

The Supervisor opened it and read it, his face 
showing great surprise. He held it out to Tomp- 
kins with a shrug. ^^Eead that, man. That 
desperado has a charmed life, I tell you.” 

The letter was written in Kable’s hand and was 
to the Sheriff, telling him he believed he had at 
last discovered his man and asking him to come 
to the mill again under cover of night and to- 
gether they would talk it out. In his hurry to 
get away to Mountain City the message had not 
been sent, and now, of course, it was too late. 
Jaycox was gone. But where! — That was the 
question that all wanted answered. Could it be 
possible that he, like High, had been burned, — 
burned in a fire of his own making. Tompkins 
was decidedly of the opinion not. 

‘‘We will never get him with a posse, Tomp- 
kins,” said Mr. Hastings, positively, after some 
thought. “We have got to surprise the rascal. 
He can’t get far, for he has no clothes, no mount, 


A SEA OF FLAME 


225 


no food, no money, and — ^thank God, no gun this 
time. He is in these very hills in hiding. We 
must locate him at once, but it must be on the 
quiet. I wouldn’t wonder he might he found at 
High’s cabin at his hour, or at his mine. There 
are provisions there, and shelter, and he knows 
it.” 

‘^He had High’s old rifle. What did he do with 
it?” said Uncle Bob. 

‘‘Oh, it probably burned with the bunk-house,” 
replied the Supervisor. 

“Now, let’s get some rest and be ready by 
noon,” said Hastings. “We’ll make a close drag 
net and we’ll hunt these hills night and day until 
we get that fiend. And when we once get him in 
that old calaboose — I — I was going to say we’d 
set it a ’fire too; but, of course, we must let the 
law take its course. I know what a jury of these 
mill hands will do.” 

Aunt Belle prepared them a simple meal, while 
Uncle Bob got a report ready for the State For- 
ester in Denver. Soon they were fast asleep, all 
save Tompkins, and he was eager to start. 

Late that afternoon the Scouts journeyed back 
over the trail to the vast burned-over area to view 
it in its desolation. There was nothing left of 
their countless old “veterans” save gnarled and 
blackened stubs that rose on the hills by the hun- 
dred. They wandered here and there sadly — ^up 


226 THE BOY SCOUT TKAIL BLAZERS 


the stream that was now full of floating debris and 
choked with half-burned limbs. They turned 
where the little stream swung about a great gran- 
ite crag and were about to climb the mountain 
into the green living forest again, when Harry 
suddenly caught Harvey by the arm and pointed 
up stream. 

There, with his nose deep in the cooling water, 
was Courageous. But he had heard their ap- 
proach, and with his sensitive nose tipped high 
to the wind he whiffed suspiciously, and was off 
into the near-by thicket. 

‘‘Wefll hunt you to-morrow, old boy,’^ said 
Harry, fervently, “and perhaps you and your 
gentle smeller can help us find Jaycox.’^ 

“I must bring my kodak and take some snaps 
of the awful ruin,’’ said Harvey, “so we can tell 
the Scouts at home about it. It won’t be many 
weeks now until we must go home. ’ ’ 

“We’ll have some yarns to tell, too, won’t we?” 

“Yes, but I’d rather catch that desperado than 
anything else in the world,” said Harry. “I’d 
be a happy Scout if I could just do that. Perhaps 
it would in a measure pay for some of the awful 
blunders we have made, and for the death of 
High.” 

“Oh, I wish we could!” assented Harvey, 
eagerly, “but I’m afraid we never will. He’s too 
clever. ’ ’ 


A SEA OF FLAME 227 

‘‘If we could only make sure he is still in the 
valley, the rest would be easy/’ 

“But how can weF’ 

“I have a very faint idea, but I’m not ready to 
tell you yet. I must let it soak awhile first. Say, 
do you suppose there might have been any money 
in those papers from Mr. Kable’s desk? — You 
know Jay cox buried them. If there was, and he 
knew it, he might come back, mightn’t he, just to 
get it, after he is sure there is no one around to 
see him?” 

“No one saw him bury those papers but we two 
boys,” said Harvey, earnestly, “and perhaps he’ll 
think we don’t count. Do you suppose he will 
come back, old Scout ? ’ ’ 

“I think he will, sometime,” said Harry, “and 
then, watch me ! ” 

Harvey waited for the details, but soon discov- 
ered they weren’t forthcoming, at least just then, 
and soon they were on the trail again bound for 
the cabin. 


CHAPTER X 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 

WISH that posse would hurry and get 
I back/’ said Harry, to his brother two 

A days later. ^‘We have got to stay pretty 
close until we see what they find out. It is my 
own candid opinion, though, that they won’t get 
a trace of their man. ’ ’ 

‘‘What makes you think so. Scout!” queried 
Harvey. “Some of the best woodsmen in this 
part of the West are on his trail. I don’t see how 
he can get away, unless some one shelters him.” 

“Yes, but you must remember he was born in 
the wild, he ’s lived in it all his life ; in reality he 
is a wild animal. He has proven that a number 
of times. There are no doubt hundreds of wild 
things about us here this moment, but we never 
see them. They don’t propose that we shall. 
I’ll bet Jaycox could live right here for a long 
time without being caught, unless by accident.” 

“They may never hear of him again in these 
parts,” said Harvey. “I think he’s gone for 
good.” 

“I don’t,” said Harry, positively. “I think he 
228 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 229 

is in these very woods at this hour, for, unless I’m 
badly mistaken in our man, he will make at least 
one try to join his father and brothers before he 
makes his final get-away. I am determined to try 
my little stunt. If he is here, he’ll come back to 
those buried papers, for you know he told us there 
was money there ; but not while any one is watch- 
ing him, of course. Probably he would come in 
the dead of night when he is least expected. Now, 
the surest way in the world to catch him is to 
first make certain he is still here, and I have an 
idea that’s working.” 

‘‘Another pipe dream, I suppose,” laughed 
Harvey. “How are you going to work it — lay 
over there in the brush until you hear a noise 
about that spot and then hurry out with a lantern 
and peer into his face to identify him? Better 
arrange to snap a cow bell about his neck quick, 
so you can follow him when he runs. Ha! Ha! 
old Scout, you are a great schemer, but you’ll 
never get ahead of Jaycox.” 

Harry was just a bit put out at the joking and 
his eager smile changed to determination. “I 
was going to tell you all about my little scheme, 
but now I wont,” he said, decisively. “Not one 
word. And when I do catch my man, he shall be 
mine — do you hear ? all mine ! ’ ’ 

“Gro to it. Scout, go to it! Here’s luck 
a ’plenty,” laughed Harvey, lightly. Neverthe- 


230 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


less, he was disappointed, for he always liked to 
be in on Harry’s schemes and down in his heart 
he knew full well that they most always panned 
out. He went into the cabin with just one thought 
in his mind — getting some possible clew to Harry’s 
method. 

Those buried papers are the key,” he said, 
half aloud, ‘'but I can’t see how he’s going to 
catch him.” 

Harry walked over to the rustic gateway and 
stood looking down the trail. Just over his head 
ran the telephone wires, one set to the Super- 
visor’s cabin down the valley, the other set over 
the ridge to the scene of the great fire only two 
days before. The boy was lost in thought. He 
was busy adjusting the conditions to his embryo 
scheme, but it was very evident there were some 
fundamentals lacking that he was at a loss to 
know just how to supply. At last he knelt down, 
picked up a bit of a stick and began to visualize 
his idea on the ground with a crude sketch. He 
became so engrossed that he began talking aloud, 
as if explaining to a close companion. 

“You see, old boy,” he was saying, “I’ve got 
to do three big things: I’ve got to prove that 
some one really tampers with those papers and 
that money, that that some one is Jaycox, and I 
have got to be advised of his visit the instant he 
begins to dig. Now, those are three real corkers. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 231 


No doubt, if he does come, he’ll come in the night ; 
at least, that’s my only chance. But if he should 
reconnoiter before dark to see if all’s well, he’ll 
see my kodak and that would be the end of it all. 
Now if I try to hide it he will be sure to notice 
the change of things. The other thing that simply 
sticks me is how in Sam Patch am I to get cur- 
rent enough over there to set off that flashlight. 
Wish to goodness I had one of my old storage bat- 
teries here. I can arrange the opening and closing 
of the shutter easily. That came to me in the 
night. 

wish Harvey hadn’t shown that spirit. I’ll 
need him to help, but I won’t tell him — not a 
word now. He can wait. Let’s see, that posse 
ought to be home at least by to-morrow night. If 
they haven’t gotten him and he is still at large he 
is very liable to take a look at those papers to- 
morrow night. Say, boys, I’ve got to dust and get 
my machine ready. There is no time to lose. 
What’s the good of a bright idea if it’s too late, 
I’d like to know!” 

He broke into a merry laugh as he thought how 
surprised they would all be if he should do the 
trick. ^‘Be some glory to just hand the Super- 
visor a portrait of old Jaycox digging that hole, 
after the best posse in the West declares he’s 
gone ! I hope they haven ’t had any luck. ’ ’ 

He slipped into the cabin, emptied his duffle bag 


232 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


and swung it to his shoulder. Then when no one 
was looking he slipped his kodak, tripod, and a 
new package of flash cartridges into it and made a 
bee line for the little shop at the end of the wood- 
shed. Once in, he shut the door softly — ^he was 
sure no one had seen him enter — and began to 
look for needful accessories. 

Yes, there was copper wire, and a hinge, and a 
piece of two-by-four that would be just the thing. 
Yes, what was more, there were two hinges and 
one of them was brass. That settled another try- 
ing problem. He knew there must be dry cells 
there somewhere, for his uncle used them both 
for the ’phone and for his electric lanterns in the 
barns. 

To his delight he found a new box of a dozen 
batteries that had just come. In fact, they had 
not been opened yet. He would remove what he 
needed and replace the lid so they would never be 
missed, at least for the present. If he was just 
successful, then he would tell them all about it, but 
if it was a failure he would ji;ist return them to 
their place and no one would be any the wiser. 

He sawed the two-by-four into two pieces about 
twenty inches long. These he hinged together at 
one end so they would fold up easily like a letter 
U. Next he took the brass hinge apart by pull- 
ing out the pin and mounted one-half on the in- 
side end of each stick, so that when the two-by- 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 233 


four was folded up tight the two parts of brass 
would fit into each other, like an electric switch. 
He adjusted these carefully so as to insure a per- 
fect electrical contact for his wires. He then 
loosened one screw sufficiently from each half of 
the hinge so as to fasten the end of a small copper 
wire to each screw-head. He again tightened 
them up and quickly attached the other ends of the 
wires to one of the batteries. Then he opened 
and shut the huge switch. To his great delight, 
the instant the two brass pieces would come in 
contact with each other there was a sharp spark. 
He added a second battery, and then a third and 
fourth, until he was entirely satisfied that there 
was enough spark to set offi the flash powder. 

Next he constructed a careful coil of copper 
wires about one-half inch in length and made it 
fast to one of the brass hinge parts so as to stand 
erect against the other. 

‘^You see,’’ he was saying, must allow for 
the depth of the powder between the two and must 
be sure of my contact.” He tried the improved 
contact, but it failed to suit him, so he removed 
the coil and simply attached to each side of the 
hinge a small wire that he could lead off to his 
powder cartridge a bit at one side. This worked 
better, and he was satisfied. 

‘ ‘ But how in Sam Hill am I to squeeze that bulb 
sharp enough to be sure of an exposure?” He 


234 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


stood looking at his machine, when suddenly an- 
other bright idea flashed into his mind. He 
winked knowingly, as if to an observing compan- 
ion, and then put his idea into practice. 

He placed the bulb of his kodak at the exact 
point of the hinged joint, wired it there with a 
bit of a wire, and then lifting the one end of the 
hinged two-by-four he let it drop quickly, so as to 
pinch the bulb suddenly. It was heavy enough to 
flatten the bulb to quite a degree, but not enough 
to completely force out the air. In a moment that 
was arranged by securely fastening a brick at the 
end of the top half of the pincher. It worked like 
a charm, and what was more to be thankful for, 
it insured a splendid contact for his current. 
Every time he tried it he discovered that the bulb 
was just enough nearer so that the kodak shutter 
completely opened just a flash before the spark 
took place. 

‘‘CouldnT be better!’’ he exclaimed, enthusi- 
astically, and then his face fell. ^‘But how am 
I going to cock the thing and shoot it? Say, it 
will take a post-graduate of Boston Tech to run 
this thing yet. Bone-head!” he cried, suddenly. 
‘^That’s the easiest of all. I’ll just prop these 
two pieces of two-by-four apart with a light bit of 
limb, tie a stout string — a fish line is just the 
wrinkle — to the prop, and the other end I’ll fasten 
in the earth just where the papers are, say to a bit 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 235 


of wood. He’s just naturally bound to throw that 
chip out as he digs, and when he does, pop will 
go the weasel! — out comes the prop, bing goes 
the bulb, putf goes the flash light, and quicker than 
scat Mr. Jaycox will have his beauty struck. 
Great! But — ” The Scout’s face fell. ‘‘Say, 
what if he should take a notion to investigate? 
He would find my kodak sure, and go away with 
it, and then what? Oh, fiddle ! there goes another 
bright idea all to smash.” His face fell as he 
stopped to survey his work. 

“If there was just some way of getting a sig- 
nal back to the cabin that the thing had happened, 
or even back into the woods, say three or four 
hundred yards, so we could close in on him! I’d 
almost be willing to lose my kodak if I could only 
catch the desperado.” He was lost in thought, 
but try as he might he could get no solution. 

“Don’t know just how I could hide the thing, 
either,” he said, at length, quite disgustedly. 
“I’m glad I didn’t tell Harvey about it now, 
’cause it looks like it’s all up. Too bad, too!” 

He carefully put all his parts out of sight in his 
duffle bag and slipped out around the barn. Forc- 
ing a whistle to his lips, he opened the door and 
went into the cabin. 

Harvey was reading a letter and was completely 
absorbed. 

“Who’s the letter from. Scout?” 


236 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


Harvey scowled a bit and tossed it over to 
Harry. 

‘^From Mother; and she thinks we better plan 
to come home before Christmas. Scarlet fever is 
better and they are getting lonesome for us.’’ 

Harry read the letter eagerly, then turning to 
his brother he haid, half bitterly : 

wouldn’t mind going half so much if we 
could just get Jaycox first.” 

‘‘Well, I thought you said you were going to 
get him,” challenged his brother. “Won’t that 
infernal machine you have been working on do the 
trick?” There was just a bit of triumph in his 
voice. 

Harry looked at him angrily. “How did you 
knoTv ! Have you been spying on me ? ” 

“Of course not. I’m a Scout, and Scouts play 
fair,” retorted Harvey. “I was just guessing.” 

“Well, I had an idea, but it won’t work,” said 
Harry despondently. “I was in hopes it would, 
but it won’t.” 

The telephone rang vigorously. Harry hurried 
to the receiver. “Yes, Harry Carter. You, 
Tompkins? Didn’t catch him; no signs. Well, 
well. Not at High’s cabin or hadn’t been there. 
Well, what you going to do now? — Coming here 
to-night to do a little investigating on your own 
hook ; think he is here somewhere. Do you really 
think so? Say, Tompkins, listen!” said Harry 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 237 


eagerly. want to see you just as soon as you 
get here, private like. No, I don^t know anything 
for sure, but I have an idea. Perhaps you and I 
could — You’ll he here at four? I’ll be ready 
for you. Say, is there such a thing as a small elec- 
tric bell there at headquarters? There is? Well, 
hurray! Bring it with you without fail. Good- 
by.” 

‘ ‘ Now for work, ’ ’ said Harry. ‘ ‘ Scout, I ’m go- 
ing to take you in on this deal after all, because 
I’ve had a new inspiration and I tell you my little 
scheme is going to work. If we catch that des- 
perado it would be too bad for you not to have 
had a hand.” 

Together they went to the shop, and Harry care- 
fully explained and then demonstrated his idea. 

‘‘Great!” shouted Harvey. “Scout, you are a 
regular wonder. But what are you going to do 
with the bell?” 

“Simple,” replied Harry. “Listen. I was lost 
completely till I heard that ’phone ring. Sud- 
denly I thought of the down telephone wires from 
the mill. We’ll hook the bell on this end and into 
the circuit, use the power that is on the line al- 
ready for transmission and spark, and the instant 
there is contact the bell will ring here in this cabin. 
See? Now all that means is to find some way to 
hide the outfit over at the mill. That’s what is 
bothering me most just now.” 


238 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


‘‘Oh, that^s easy!’’ cried Harvey, now fully en- 
thused over the plan. “Why not put your whole 
machine inside the big boiler? You know the 
open end looks exactly out on the spot where the 
papers are buried ; and say. Scout, those wires will 
just about reach to it. I mean the loose ends from 
the bunk-house.’^ 

“You’ve got it, old boy!” cried Harry excit- 
edly. “Two heads are better than one any day. 
Scout, I’m glad I took you in.” 

They watched eagerly for the home-coming of 
Uncle Bob, Toney, Tompkins and the Supervisor, 
and sure enough it was just four-thirty when they 
rode up the trail, tired and hungry and on horses 
that were nearly exhausted. The boys knew at a 
glance that they had ridden hard and long, and 
asked no questions. It was very plain to be seen 
that the Supervisor was completely out of sorts. 

An early supper over, Tompkins and the two 
Scouts excused themselves, and the Government 
Ranger was introduced to the intricacies of the 
new automatic detective. He listened patiently as 
Harry explained, but instead of catching the en- 
thusiasm of the boys, Tompkins ’'brow clouded and 
his tired face frowned in spite of himself. At 
last he interrupted: 

“Scouts, that’s a very ingenious idea that you 
have there, no doubt, but you boys are all wrong. 
You don’t realize how tremendously important it 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 239 


is to this whole State that we catch that scalawag. 
It^s not the job of hoys, even if they are Scouts, 
to undertake to capture desperate criminals 
merely in order to prove they are clever boys. 
The thing to do always is to get any information 
you may have into the hands of the proper civil 
authorities at once. The Supervisor must not 
know, if we can help it, that you hoys kept back 
this information about the papers and the money. 
That is the most important clew we have. I doubt 
if we would have gone on that long, weary chase 
to-day if we had known what you have now told 
me.’^ 

‘‘But we’ll catch him yet,” said Harry, “and 
that will make up for our thoughtlessness. Oh, 
I’m so sorry I didn’t think of it that way before. 
I thought I was doing what was best. ’ ’ 

“Anyway,” said Tompkins, “the kodak part of 
your scheme is all useless. We don’t need a pho- 
tograph of Jaycox. All we need to know is that 
a man comes to those buried papers. Now, look 
here, boys, don’t be so glum. You may be the 
means of capturing that crook yet. Listen! In- 
stead of fixing the kodak as you suggest, we’ll run 
the wires into the old boiler and then we’ll put the 
bell back in the thick timber on the end of the line. 
One of you boys will hide in the boiler and when 
Jaycox comes, if he does, you signal the rest of 
us by the bell and we’ll quietly close in on him 


240 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


from all sides while he digs, making his capture 
certain. He will never think to look inside that 
boiler even if he does reconnoiter the place and 
we ^11 get word the minute he begins to dig. What 
say you ? ’ ’ and he slapped the boys on the back to 
cheer them up. 

They were both disappointed at the turn of af- 
fairs, but were perfectly willing to follow any 
suggestion Tompkins might make because of their 
confidence in him. In thirty minutes they were 
off in the woods with the necessary paraphernalia. 
The bell was attached to the telephone wires and 
run down a tree in a big sheltered ravine where 
they would be out of the wind and very near to the 
mill. 

After talking the new plan over carefully it was 
decided to leave the kodak out of the considera- 
tion entirely and Harvey was to be the Scout that 
was to hide inside the boiler and give the alarm. 
They hurried off to make the proper connections 
and then back to talk it out with Uncle Bob and 
Toney before dark, for it would take them all to 
make the capture certain. 

They were too tired to receive even this new 
clew with any real enthusiasm, but as Tompkins 
pointed out the possibilities in it, they finally 
warmed to the idea and soon were making final 
arrangements for the experiment. Every detail 
was carefully gone over and at last Harry in com- 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 241 


pany with Toney, for Mr. Standish did not wish 
to risk the unprotected boy there alone, set off for 
the old boiler. It was decidedly a tight fit for 
them and necessitated a very cramped position for 
them both, but this was forgotten in the excite- 
ment of the thing. 

^Hf we only do catch him!’^ breathed Harry to 
his tired comrade. 

hope we shall, my boy,’^ said Toney, ‘‘but 
whatever happens don’t leave the boiler till I tell 
you. I am responsible for you. ” 

Harry promised and soon all was in readiness. 
The last long rays of sunshine were shooting over 
the western ridge of the fire-burned area, its red 
glare in the burned timber strangely reminding 
the Scout of that other night, the effects of which 
he had not as yet completely gotten over. 

In a few moments more Harvey, Mr. Standish 
and Tompkins were safe in their retreat. Tomp- 
kins had his powerful pocket flash lamp with him 
that sent a long, straight beam of yellow light far 
into the night, and Uncle Bob his rifle ready for 
any emergency. As they were all very weary, 
Tompkins decided it was useless for all of them to 
stay awake, so he volunteered to keep watch while 
the others slept. 

He found it hard to keep his eyes open, but so 
eager was he to catch Jay cox that he was able to 
keep the sleep from his eyes for hours. At nine 


242 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZERS 


o’clock he felt compelled to walk back and forth 
to keep from dozing off, and when ten o’clock 
rolled around the ridiculousness of the thing be- 
gan to dawn upon him, and he became so weary 
that he felt sure he could not stay awake another 
hour. Finally he sat down on an old stump to rest 
and look at the stars, and before he realized it he 
was sound asleep. 

For an hour they slept on in peaceful slumber, 
and then Harry awakened. He called softly, and 
there was no reply. He rose hurriedly and looked 
about him, fearing Tompkins had heard something 
and had gone and left them while he reconnoi- 
tered. In a second, however, he found Tompkins 
fast asleep, and realized for the first time how 
utterly weary and worn the man was. He took his 
place by his side and waited. Surely minutes 
never passed so slowly before. Twice he caught 
himself nodding, and the same thoughts flashed 
through his mind that had come to the Ranger 
just before he had fallen asleep. Ten minutes 
more and Harry Carter would have been asleep 
alongside of the Ranger, but luck smiled upon him 
and saved him from what would have been the big- 
gest defeat of his life. 

The bell purred for a fleeting second, so softly 
that at first he believed he was dreaming, and then 
suddenly there were half a dozen vibrations ; then 
all was still. Strange prickly chills ran up and 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 243 


down his spine. He shook Tompkins violently. 
The Eanger was alert in a second. 

‘‘The bell rang!’’ said Harry breathlessly. 

‘ ‘ And I was asleep ! ’ ’ said Tompkins reproach- 
fully. “This way.” They hurried forward over 
the trail. They had been in the absolute darkness 
all evening and were able to see surprisingly well. 

When within a hundred yards they stopped 
short, Tompkins with his light ready to flash and 
Uncle Bob with his rifle ready for action. 

‘ ‘ I hear him digging ! ’ ’ said Uncle Bob hoarsely. 

“So do I,” added Harvey in great excitement. 

“He’s there all right,” breathed Tompkins. 
“I’ll flash the light on him and you cover him. 
Bob. If he runs, shoot, but look out for the boiler. 
Let’s not turn this chase into a tragedy for our- 
selves. ’ ’ 

The light was flashed in the direction of the dig- 
ging. Tompkins heard a curse as he cried, 
“Hands up or you’re a dead man!” Before 
them, outlined against the blackest of stumps, was 
a huge man, tattered and torn, his shoulders bent, 
and in his hands he clasped an ancient rifle. He 
stood staring into the blinding beam of light a 
second as if uncertain, and then leaped into the 
dark like an arrow, but not before Uncle Bob had 
fired. He heard the retreating figure fall. Toney 
hurried forward now, covering the prostrate form 
from behind. Fifty feet from where the beam had 


244 THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS 


first outlined him lay Jaycox, shot in the leg, — a 
writhing, cursing mass of humanity. He was 
quickly disarmed and leaned against a stump. 
Toney called to Harvey to come on and soon they 
stood in an excited circle about their desperado. 
Soon he was bound as his father had been before 
him and a start was made for the cabin. 

It was an interesting procession of Rangers, 
Scouts and horses that reached the cabin barnyard 
just before midnight. All were too tired to talk 
much, yet in the heart of each was a genuine sat* 
isfaction. 

We ’ll sure have some great experiences to tell 
the troop about, won’t we?” said Harry enthusi- 
astically. 

‘‘We sure will that,” said Harvey, “from trout 
fishing to helping capture desperate tie cutters. 
My! but they will be interested in it all.” 

“I haven’t had time to write in my diary, 
either,” said Harry, “but I guess I can remember 
most of what I would have written.” 

“Oh, yes,” laughed Harvey, “and some things 
that you wouldn’t have written, too. Say, I’ll 
have a great joke on you when I get to telling of 
how you planned to catch a desperado with a 
kodak!” 

“If you tell that. Old Scout,” laughed Harry, 
shaking his fist, “I’ll thrash you for once good and 
proper.” 


IN THE HANDS OF THE LAW 245 


‘ ‘ We ’ll see about that, ’ ’ retorted Harvey. ‘ ‘ My 
muscles are awfully powerful just now. This for- 
est life has put pep into me for sure.” 

^‘But what’s to be done with this desperado,” 
asked Harry eagerly, ‘‘now that we really have 
him?” 

“We are going to keep him here until arrange- 
ments can be made to get him safely to the Moun- 
tain City jail. It would never do to lock him up 
here and let it be known, for those mill hands 
would have a picnic.” 

Early the next day Tompkins rode to Mountain 
City to bring Kable, and after a few hours with 
the miserable Jaycox they were entirely satisfied 
that they at last had the most sought-after man in 
the Famine Valley region. 

The boys waited eagerly for the results of the 
talk, and when Tompkins told them that Jaycox 
had been living in a shanty in the burned-over 
area, they were anxious to see it; so following 
what general directions they could get they started 
to locate the hiding place. 

By noon they found it — as clever a ruse as ever 
could be arranged. It was built of burned logs 
stood on end in a half circle about a huge standing 
stub, with a lot of smaller burned stuff scattered 
over the outside to destroy the appearance of 
regularity. Inside, to their utter astonishment, 
was a sharp ax, a saw, quite a lot of canned goods, 


246 THE BOY SCOUT TEAIL BLAZEES 


and an old water pail. Far back in the corner was 
a crude bed of boughs that had been brought from 
the ridge in the dead of night. Carefully Harry 
photographed it from every angle, and then hur- 
ried home to develop them. 

‘^Well, we helped to get him after all, Old 
Scout said Harry, with real satisfaction. 

‘‘You bet we did,^’ replied Harvey, “and now I 
am ready to go home for Christmas.’^ 

That night there came a second letter from 
home urging the lads to come as soon as conven- 
ient. And so it was planned that they should go 
to the State Forest Nursery for a few days, then 
on to Denver, and from there leave for the East. 

“We ^11 miss you very much, boys,’’ said Uncle 
Bob, “but we’ll hope to have you back again in a 
few years.” 

“We’ll both be here. Uncle,” cried Harry, “for 
we have had the time of our lives. You must be 
sure to let us know what the law does with our 
desperado, and, remember, we want to be foresters 
ourselves one of these days.” 


THE END 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


Published with the approval of 
The Boy Scouts of America 


In the boys^ world of story books, none 
better than those about boy scouts arrest 
and grip attention. In a most alluring way, 
the stories in the BOY SCOUT LIFE 
SERIES tell of the glorious good times and 
wonderful adventures of boy scouts. 

All the books were written by authors 
possessed of an intimate knowledge of this 
greatest of all movements organized for the 
welfare of boys, and are published with the 
approval of the National Headquarters of the Boy Scouts 
of America. 

The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. F. K. Mathiews, writes 
concerning them: ‘Tt is a bully bunch of books. I hope 
you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are 
the sort that help instead of hurt our movement.” 



THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS— 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP— 
MCLANB 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS— C/fPLBF 
THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS— LBPP/GO 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

12mo*f Cloth, Illustrated, Per vol, 75 cents postpaid 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


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THE GO AHEAD BOYS 

BY ROSS KAY. 


7 leave this rule for others when Fm dead: 

Be always sure you*re right — THEN GO AHEAD. 

— Davy Crockett’s Motto. 


The love of adventure is inborn in all 
normal boys. Action is almost a supreme 
demand in all the stories they read with 
most pleasure. Here is presented a series 
of rattling good adventure stories which 
every live “go ahead” boy will read with 
unflagging interest. There is action, dash 
and snap in every tale yet the tone is health- 
ful and there is an underlying vein of re- 
sourcefulness and strength that is worth 
while. 


1 THE GO AHEAD BOYS ON SMUGGLERS' ISLAND. 

2 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE. 

3 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS 

OLD HOUSE. 

4 THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP. 

5 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE RACING MOTOR 

BOAT. 

6 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND SIMON'S MINE. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large 12mo., Illustrated, Per vol. 75 cents 

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THRILLING STORIES OF 

THE BIG EUROPEAN WAR 


THE BIG WAR SERIl^ 

{Trade Mark Registered) 

BY ROSS KAY. 



The big European War, one of the greatest 
epoch-making events in the 'world’s history, 
has been chosen by one of the best-known 
writers of juvenile fiction as the scene of a 
series of thrilling stories of these stirring 
times. 

Not a description of battles, nor the study 
of strategical campaigns, but good whole- 
some fiction with a little of the historical in- 
terwoven. These are authentic, instructive 
and exciting narratives on the greatest war 
in history. 


THE SEARCH FOR THE SPY. 

THE AIR SCOUT. 

DODGING THE NORTH SEA MINES. 

WITH JOFFRE ON THE BATTLE LINE. 

FIGHTING IN FRANCE. 

BATTLING ON THE SOMME. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

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THE TOMLINSON SERIES 

BY EVERETT T. TOMLINSON. 



Interest in school life is perpetual. The 
young, student, facing new surroundings, 
finds an element of romance and strong ap- 
peal; and to the older graduate college days 
recall some of the most pleasant memories 
of the past. 

Here are stories of school life and ath- 
letics, full of action and human interest. 
They deal with problems of life common 
to students and inspire the manly attributes 
of self-reliance and strength of character. 


THE PENNANT. 

CAPTAIN DAN RICHARDS. 

CARL HALL OF TAIT. 

JACK STONE OF TAIT SCHOOL. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

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* 

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THE COLLEGE LIFE SERIES 

BY GILBERT PATTEN 



Mr. Patten’s intimate knowledge of col- 
lege life and college athletics is clearly in- 
dicated in these volumes. They will inter- 
est alike the young collegian and the older 
graduate, for they deal with phases of life 
of which they are familiar. 


BOLTWOOD OF YALE. 

THE COLLEGE REBEL. 

ON COLLEGE BATTLEFIELDS. 


(Other volumes in preparation) 

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“As Popular as the Game Itself” 
THE BIG LEAGUE SERIES 

{Trade Mark Registered) 

BY BURT L. STANDISH. 


Endorsed by such stars of baseballdom 
as Christy Mathewson, Ty Cobb and Walter 
Johnson. 

An American boy with plenty of grit — 
baseball at its finest — and the girl in the case 
— these are the elements which compose 
the most successful of juvenile fiction. You 
don’t have to be a “fan” to enjoy these 
books; all you need to be is really human 
and alive with plenty of red blood in your 
veins. 

The author managed a “Bush League” team a nurnber of 
years ago and is thoroughly familiar with the actions of 
baseball players on and off the field. Every American, young 
or old, who has enjoyed the thrills and excitement of our 
national game, is sure to read with delight these splendid 
stories of baseball and romance. 

1 LEFTY O’ THE BUSH. 

2 LEFTY O’ THE BIG LEAGUE. 

3 LEFTY O’ THE BLUE STOCKINGS. 

4 LEFTY O’ THE TRAINING CAMP. 

5 BRICK KING, BACKSTOP. 

6 THE MAKING OF A BIG LEAGUER. 

7 COURTNEY OF THE CENTER GARDEN. 

8 COVERING THE LOOK-IN CORNER. 

9 LEFTY LOCKE, PITCHER-MANAGER, 
lo GUARDING THE KEYSTONE SACK. 

Cloth, Large I2mo,, Illustrated, Per voL 75 cents 

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